#i have a feeling its going to be buried because its posted so early so im scheduling a self reblog for later

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Begged & Borrowed Time (iii, ao3)

(Chapter three: The Attor attacks Feyre in the woods, and with Cassian left behind to protect the Archeron house, he and Nesta are left alone together for the first time. Certain truths are revealed, forcing both of them to re-evaluate their first impressions of one another.) (prologue // previous chapter // next chapter)

Nesta watched the water simmer.

Gently, at first. Little more than a ripple breaking softly across a mirrored surface as the flame coaxed the pan of water slowly, slowly, towards warmth. As the morning stretched and settled, she kept her hands busy with tea leaves and strainers, a painted porcelain teapot edged with gold. Her eyes remained, though, on the curls of steam that rose wistfully towards the high windows, like phantom fingers brushing the glass. The china was cold in her hands, chilled, as the steam pushed, pressed at the latched window, as if looking for an escape. 

She was looking for one too, she supposed.

As she lowered the leaves into the pot, she watched as the water’s surface broke in the pan. Ruptured, it boiled, bubbled with fervency, almost violently. She watched until it was spitting as if incandescent, hissing as if furious. 

She felt that, too.

Elain dragged her attention away from the raging waters on the stove with a bright hum. “Just like old times,” she said, plucking up a handful of eggs from the wooden counter. She inspected the shells with a soft smile playing on her lips, gentle and unassuming, and when she looked up - meeting Nesta’s eyes through the gathering steam - her gaze was warm and unfettered.

Nesta couldn’t smile. Not as she remembered the cottage in the woods, the mornings and nights spent like this. Elain cooking and Nesta doing the preparation, the cleaning afterwards. Yes, just like old times— except it had been far more austere, back then. Nesta didn’t point out the obvious, that they’d only rarely had eggs in that cottage. That they hadn’t had an oven this big or a kitchen this well-stocked. She only nodded, and Elain smiled still, rolling up the sleeves of her plain dress and gently lowering the eggs into the boiling water.

She turned, leaning against the counter and brushing her hand down the apron covering her skirts. “Won’t Tomas worry?” she asked as Nesta’s silence continued. “That you didn’t come home last night?”

Nesta felt her fingers suddenly slack, heard the clatter as she dropped a porcelain spoon onto the tea tray a little too hard. It rung, echoed off the tiled floor.

Worry.

She doubted he’d worry even if she were lying dead in a ditch somewhere. His greatest concern would only be the prospect of any more chests of gold dying with her, his greatest loss the severing of ties with her father and his wealth. Elain cast a fleeting glance to the dress Nesta had loaned— plain, just like hers. A kitchen was no place for finery, after all, and so instead of borrowing one of Elain’s finer gowns, Nesta had taken this one, found tucked into the back of the wardrobe in the room she had spent the night in. She had arrived with nothing, had left the Mandray house with no intention of spending the night under her father’s roof— but no, Tomas would not worry.

Nesta looked at her sister, so lovely in the early morning light. The smile on her face so clear, so breathtakingly honest… she didn’t have it in her to shatter it. Nesta only shrugged, instead, and said, “I passed the staff on the road. I asked the stable boy to send him a message, tell him I’d be staying the night.”

Elain nodded, hummed. Murmured something about that having been a good idea, but Nesta had already turned her attention back to the tea tray, filling it with cups and saucers.

It wasn’t a lie— but it felt like one. It felt as though her every breath these days was one of dishonesty, her every step false and perjured.

The pan threatened to boil over, the eggs inside rattling, clamouring against the smooth walls of the metal pan. Without a word, Nesta handed Elain a bowl, a large spoon. A knife for the butter. A practiced routine, one they had fallen back into without thinking. Old familiarity settled in her bones, and for a moment Nesta might have believed that they had slipped right back to that cottage. To their old lives, where nothing much had changed at all. 

Elain nudged her with a hip, a smile blossoming on her face as, despite herself,  Nesta felt a tentative smile of her own. For just one tenuous, trembling moment, she could pretend that all was as it was before— that she was who she had been before.

“Told you,” Elain said cheerfully. “Just like old times.”

***

Elain’s words echoed, repeated over and over as Nesta carried the silver tea tray to the morning room. As she crossed the warm, comfortable space furnished with rich fabrics, passing window after window overlooking the lawn, she took in the velvet sofas. The bookcases filled with books untouched, the pianoforte never played. Such perfect, sumptuous wealth. The thin curtains were pulled back to let in the light, and at the far end of the room, the sun drifted gently over the round mahogany table, it’s surface polished and gleaming. 

Just like old times— only Nesta wasn’t using the broken crockery from the cottage as she laid the table. She set down a lace table cloth, thick cotton napkins. Porcelain plates with cursive A’s embossed in gold. Not the same service used at dinner the night before— no, this was the casual set. Comparatively plain and yet still frighteningly expensive. As she straightened the heavy silver knives, she understood why her father had lost all of their money all those years ago. This was what he deemed casual. Embellished plates and solid silver forks.

Elain was quick to follow, light steps crossing the length of the morning room as she held a tray of her own, carrying pastries and toast, jam and butter. A bowl of scrambled eggs, a few sausages and rashers of bacon, too. Nesta felt her mouth practically water at the smell of it all, at the sight of the bowls and plates Elain set down on the fine tablecloth.

Breakfast at the Mandray house was generally a thin, silent, affair. Tomas’ father presiding over nothing but porridge and bread. Her husband and his brother, all but draining the teapot. There were eggs if they were lucky, bacon if they were even luckier. If Tomas’ father had sold his chopped wood particularly well at market that week, they ate well, if a little simply. Sometimes his mother would sprinkle some of the pepper they used so sparingly over the eggs, and when she sat down in her seat, she would give Nesta a small smile as they ate, savouring the extra taste - the extra expense - like it was a guilty pleasure. 

Nesta had already lifted a small handful of peppercorns from the kitchen. Wrapped them in cloth and tucked the parcel into her pocket— not for her husband, but for the woman who smiled softly at her over poached eggs sprinkled with black pepper.

Her hand was drifting to her pocket to feel the pepper still there when the sound of the front door opening made her head snap up. Elain paused too, looking to the windows and the grounds outside still covered with snow.

Together they watched as Feyre walked right across the lawn, over the grass towards the line of trees bordering the estate. The elegant one - Rhysand - was right beside her, hands in his pockets, raven hair glinting in the bright sunlight. They were stark against the brightness of the snow, both of them wearing leathers so similar to the ones that the other two winged fae had worn last night. They were speaking, heads bent close together, Feyre’s face tilted up, the sunlight glancing off her jaw. Her fae lord smirked at something she had said, and even trudging through fallen snow, their steps were in time, elegant and smooth.

“He seems nice,” Elain shrugged, pulling out a chair and sitting, her back to the window. She held out the plate of toast as Nesta set out the toast rack.

“Nice?” Nesta echoed, incredulous as she slid each piece of cooling toast between the silver triangles. She wondered if they were talking of the same creature— if they’d sat around the same table last night and listened to the same story.

Elain hummed as she poured herself some tea. A golden ribbon of it spilled from the spout, sweet and warm, and Nesta realised as it landed in the china teacup that she’d forgotten to fetch the sugar. She cursed as Elain reached for the milk, her fingers closing about the curled bone-china handle of the jug. 

“As nice as fae can be, I suppose,” her sister shrugged, pouring the milk.

Nesta frowned. First at Elain, then at Feyre outside, now nothing more than a shadow disappearing between the trees.

“I forgot the sugar,” she announced flatly, tearing her eyes away from the forest in the distance, from Feyre and her lord. Heading to the kitchen, Nesta tried to forget how her sister had looked. How the sunlight had bathed her in golden, fresh, light, how she had smiled at the dark-haired fae lord and how he had smiled at her, too. She didn’t let herself dwell on how it seemed for all the world like, when Feyre had been brought back as fae, she hadn’t been robbed of a home.

She’d been granted one.

***

The tiny porcelain bowl was light in hand once retrieved, the tiny silver tongs delicate in her grip. Too light, too delicate, because Nesta almost shattered both when she returned to the morning room. Finding the other two fae seated at the round table, her fingers clenched the porcelain until it hurt.

She had been raised on stories of knights and round tables, beautiful tales woven thick with chivalry and bravery. Elain, sitting before the window with the sunlight setting her plaited hair aglow, might well have been one of the maidens from those tales, but there was nothing chivalrous about the warriors sitting on the other side of the mahogany. Nothing romantic about the daggers each of them had buckled at the hip, because who came armed to breakfast?

Nothing gallant, either, about those wings, somehow even more shocking in the light of day. The membrane shone umber in the glow, a myriad of colours where last night she had seen only black. She could almost trace the bones and tendons running through those wings, like the branches of mighty trees, and the porcelain threatened to crack again. 

The beautiful one - Azriel - looked up as she entered, and beside him, the big one did too. Feyre hadn’t ever had a chance to name him last night, but Nesta found herself perfectly content to refer to him simply as the big one. She didn’t want his name— it spoke to a familiarity she didn’t want, an acquaintance she hadn’t asked for. 

They looked absurdly large at the smaller table, and she might have laughed were she not so concerned the chairs were about to break under the weight of muscle and wing. The silver fork looked far too dainty for his grip as the big one speared a rasher of bacon and set it on his plate. Nesta watched, half expecting the metal to bend in his hand, as she set the bowl of sugar cubes down with a dull thud. Rounding the table, she retreated to a seat next to Elain as the big one looked up at her from beneath thick eyelashes.

“Morning, Nesta.”

His voice was rough at the edges, like sandpaper to her senses. The way he said her name - dark and taunting and dripping with ire - had her hackles rising already. She didn’t answer, only straightened her spine and brushed the skirts over her lap as she sat. Azriel blinked at his companion, sharing some kind of look, before he nodded at Nesta in greeting, a polite gesture as he reached for the sugar. 

His hands were a mass of scars. Etiquette told her not to look, gentility not to stare, but she couldn’t help but notice the ridges of scar tissue half concealed by the deep-blue stones in leather half-gauntlets. He used the silver tongs - so ridiculously small in his hand - and dropped a single cube of sugar into his tea, stirring as he nodded to an ivory square sitting beside the toast rack.

“The letter,” Azriel said smoothly. “It’s finished.”

The paper was thick and creamy, heavy in her hands as she plucked it up. Sealed with black wax and stamped with a mountain crowned by three stars, Nesta turned it over between her fingers. She traced the seal with her fingertip, feeling the ridges of the mountain, the points of each star.

It made her frown as she brushed the mountain again, briefly wondering at the significance of it. She wondered if those stars had names, if such constellations were visible on this side of the wall. 

But it wasn’t the stars or the mountain that bothered her. No— it was the sealing of the letter itself, like they had closed a door and shut her out. They expected her to deliver this letter, but hadn’t even granted her the courtesy of knowing what it said. 

For all she knew, it could mention the Archeron name. Could mention Elain, could threaten her impending marriage, and Nesta wasn’t about to walk blindly into another mistake, another disastrous choice. With swift fingers, she made to break the seal and find out exactly what was in the pages she would be carrying. But before she could so much as brush her fingertip against the night-dark wax for a second time, warm fingers closed about hers, the grip tight.

“I wouldn’t,” the big one said with a tsk. “It’s not addressed to you.”

“I’m the one making sure it’s delivered,” Nesta retorted dryly, looking at where his hand was closed about her wrist. He smirked, but his eyes were cold, and his grip didn’t relent. She hadn’t even seen him move. Hadn’t heard him as he’d leaned over and shot out a hand before she could slide a nail beneath that seal. “Since that’s something you’re apparently incapable of.”

“Doesn’t give you the right to read it,” he shrugged. His hazel eyes dropped to where his fingers fitted about her, where his skin met hers. Then up, back to her eyes, and she was almost breathless with rage, stunned that he’d dare to be so bold, so brazen, as to think he could lay a hand on her. His eyes darkened, and Nesta pulled away sharply, her expression murderous.

“Don’t touch me.”

His fingers fell away as he leaned back in his chair, holding his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, in a voice that was taunting and arrogant. Cocksure and confident, the kind that made her grit her teeth. “But it’s still not your letter.”

He didn’t touch her again, but he didn’t shift his gaze until she relented, until she tucked the letter into the pocket of her skirts. His lips kicked up at the corners, as though he were testing to see how far he could push her. A challenge shone in his eyes, searing, the kind that should have chilled her to the bone. It only made her angry, incited her further, because what was her life but a game to this creature? Like a cat with a mouse, he was playing with her, taunting her, as if she were insignificant, inconsequential. 

As Elain spoke about the weather and her father’s business  - with Azriel listening politely - those hazel eyes bored into her soul, took in every single part of her, every movement and every breath. Last night the battlefield had been the dinner table— now it was the breakfast table, eyes meeting and clashing over tea instead of wine. Just as she’d done the night before, she was about to ask him what he thought he was looking at, when the front door opened for the second time that morning. Footsteps sounded on the marble and Rhysand appeared a moment later, carrying with him the cold and the scent of pine. Snow clung to his shoulders and boots, melting quickly as he strode across the morning room floor. He reached the rounded table and smiled gratefully as he spied the waiting teapot. 

“Feyre’s finally told you to get lost, has she?” the big one said, leaning back in his chair as though he were entirely at home. His wings shifted as he did, sitting at an angle over the wooden arm rests that Nesta didn’t think could be comfortable. Beside him, Azriel huffed a laugh, a smirk on his face as the wisps of shadow seemed to titter and swarm at his elbows.

Nesta hoped Feyre had. Hoped she’d told all three of them to get lost, to leave and never darken their doorstep again. A fool’s hope, considering the way her sister had looked at the Lord of Night, but Nesta clung to it nonetheless, hoping she could just show them out and wash her hands of all of this.

“Oh, fuck off,” Rhysand retorted. He sat in a chair at the curve of the table, as far away from Nesta as he could get. “I left her to practice,” he said, eyes flicking to the woods outside. Nesta’s eyes followed, but saw nothing. Rhysand cleared his throat and pulled the teapot forwards. “Apologies for the language,” he added, almost conspiratorially, to Elain. As he poured his tea, Nesta couldn’t help but wonder if he would have apologised to her for cursing. If he’d have thought her ears too delicate for such language.

Elain only hummed lightly, a slight blush tinting her cheeks. “What is she practicing?”

“Magic,” he answered simply. “Your sister has power. A lot of it— I want her to be able to use it. To protect herself should she need to.”

Elain paled, and Nesta stopped stirring her tea, her fingers growing numb. She felt hollow, a coldness sweeping through her, and all she could think of was the Children of the Blessed. Chanting and ringing bells through the town, swearing that the fae would give them powers, bless them with magic and long life. She fought a shudder, and felt the big one’s eyes on her, all but daring her to sneer again.

Don’t expect me to sit here and say nothing as you sneer at her for a choice she didn’t get to make.

She heard his words from the night before clear in her mind, so clear he might as well have spoken them again. Glancing at him over the rim of her china cup, she watched his lips press together, saw his eyes flash, and would have sworn he heard his words echo too, felt them on his tongue. 

She forced her distaste down until she felt like she was choking on it, drowning in it.

Silence fell, where none of them quite knew what to say. The scent of the bacon turned her stomach, and Nesta didn’t want to eat, didn’t want to sit and look at the woods where her sister was practicing with some unknown power. It made her feel sick, like everything she had ever known was unravelling, and it was getting harder and harder to keep her hand steady as she lowered her china cup to its saucer.

Silence— uncomfortable, terse silence, until the big one cleared his throat.

“Thank you Elain,” he said, polishing off a pastry. “For the breakfast.”

A soft smile, a deferential nod— all of the things they gave to Elain freely. They had drawn their blades as Nesta approached last night, but Elain… Elain got smiles and thanks. 

“Oh,” she said, waving a hand. Another blush spread across her cheeks, somehow making her even lovelier. “Nesta did just as much as me.”

He blinked, his maddeningly soft lips smirking as he tilted his head. Propped it on a fist, elbow on the table. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d have known how,” he shrugged, eyes sliding from Elain to Nesta. “Being such a pampered princess and all.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t so much as blink as his words hit her, hit a nerve she didn’t want to admit was so exposed. It will be a prince for you, Mama had always said. Elain will marry for love, but you, Nesta, you will be a princess. A queen.

But it was Feyre wearing the crown now. Elain marrying a lord. Nesta wasn’t a princess, she was barely more than a beggar. She had deviated so far from the path her mother had laid for her— so far that it was invisible now, with no way, no hope, of finding it again. Slowly, she exhaled, gritted her teeth.

“What, exactly, do you think you know about me?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet, lethally soft. “What makes you think you can pass comment?”

His eyes turned dark. “I’ve met plenty like you.”

Even Azriel looked at him sharply, but Nesta only plucked up a spoon and stirred her tea again, even though the sugar had long since dissolved. Vitriolic disdain coloured her face as she regarded him, so out of place among her father’s furniture. And yet those ruby stones were the brightest thing in the room, catching her eye whenever the sun drifted over the smooth, faceted surface.

From the curve of the table, Rhysand sighed. Shook his head and looked warily at the fae who still had his eyes trained definitively on Nesta. The lord’s hand dipped into an inside pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. A pen followed, and Nesta watched as he wrote a hasty note in an elegant, cursive hand. She was about to ask why he was writing correspondence at the breakfast table - was etiquette and courtesy entirely lost on these creatures? - when it disappeared into thin air, there and gone in a blink.

Elain gasped, the sound echoing on the china. There was a clatter as she put her teacup down a little too hastily, her saucer rattling as Rhysand winked.

A faint smell of burning hung in the air, like sparks, as the paper returned. Rhysand smirked but deigned to keep the contents of the note private before penning another and sending it into the ether. The burning seemed to choke her, seemed to consume her, and though faintly she heard Elain asking how it worked, how he could do such a thing, Nesta couldn’t focus, couldn’t do anything but sip her tea and pray it took away the taste that lingered in her mouth.

She didn’t care how it worked. She only wished they weren’t subjected to such magic tricks at breakfast, only wished she could think of anything else besides that burning smell, besides what Feyre was doing in the woods, wondering whether the power in her veins burned too. She wondered what else they had done to her sister, what else they had changed, and, too, of that disappearing note— how it folded into nothing, how Feyre might be able to do such a thing now, with just a flick of her wrist—

“Nesta?”

She blinked. Looked up to find Elain standing beside her chair, a hand on Nesta’s shoulder.

“I said I’m going to get changed,” Elain said, nodding at her dress. It was an old thing she’d thrown on to cook in, her hair pulled back into a simple plait. It was almost as plain as it would have been in the cottage, and as Elain smiled, told her she was going to get ready for the day properly, Nesta nodded, felt her sister’s fingers squeeze her shoulder.

She wouldn’t ask her to stay. Wouldn’t admit that the thought of being alone with these creatures made her skin crawl. No, she watched as Elain disappeared almost as quickly as Rhysand’s note, grateful that one sister, at least, was free of them. 

She longed for her own excuse to leave as they descended into quiet chatter and inside jokes. The big one poured himself another cup of tea, the china so fragile in his hand. He didn’t take sugar, Nesta noted. Nor milk— just strong, black tea. As if she needed any more indication he was from another world, she thought wryly, as she dropped another two cubes into her own cup.

Azriel was speaking quietly when Rhysand looked sharply at the window. He rose so quickly she was surprised the chair didn’t tip over, dark hair tumbling over his forehead as his fingers sought his blade. Grimly, he looked to his companions, uttering just one word before vanishing in a swathe of darkness: “Trouble.”

***

The china cup was left forgotten, discarded on the table.

“Go,” the big one said, rising from his chair and looking to the windows. The world outside was calm and silent, but the red stones on his arms and chest were pulsing, and as Azriel stood too, Nesta noticed his stones were shining too. Not brightly, not exactly, but glowing nonetheless, as if alive somehow. “I’ll stay here.”

Azriel’s blade hissed as it was drawn, a thing so wickedly sharp and gleaming that it made her shiver. Strange symbols were stamped on the sheath, and it seemed to sing as he held it in his hand— a promise, a dark promise of violence and retribution in that blade. The big one pulled a dagger too, one of shining silver with a leather wrapped hilt. Much plainer, but no less sharp. Azriel nodded briskly before he, too, vanished into the thin air the way Rhysand had done.

“What is it?” Nesta asked, turning to the window as she stood.

The big one didn’t answer. With confident, sure steps he walked to each window. Nesta shadowed him— unconsciously following as he strode from the window by the table right to the other end of the room, past the sofas and the empty hearth, and back again. She didn’t know what was wrong, but her heart pounded, and as she looked up to the ceiling, all her thoughts turned to Elain. Getting to Elain, making sure she was safe, too.

“She’s fine.” He spoke before Nesta could make for the door, and she didn’t know how he had sensed that her mind was on her sister upstairs, but as his eyes flicked to the door, it made her pause.

“If something is wrong—”

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “Nothing is getting near this house. Leave Elain to continue dressing. Unless,” he shrugged, flicking the pad of his thumb over the flat of his dagger. “You’d rather her stand here in her corset?”

His eyes flicked to the moulded plaster ceiling, as if he could hear her upstairs, and Nesta glared, furious at him for even daring to picture her sister in a corset, for daring to let it cross his mind. He smirked at that, as if he could tell exactly what she’d been thinking, and dragged his eyes over her as if he’d like to see her in her corset. A searching gaze that roamed her plain, borrowed dress— suddenly she felt the bones of her own corset pitching her ribs, suddenly too tight to breathe. She was about to huff in indignation, but before she could draw breath, he huffed a laugh and was serious again.

“It’s fine,” he repeated, as though he were trying to drill it into her. “Let Az and Rhys find out what’s going on. Leave Elain to get ready and stay where you are.” His voice softened a fraction. Not much, but just barely. “I can protect the house and I can protect Elain, but I need you to listen to me.”

The air was cold in her lungs as she breathed. Listen to him— trust him, like it was easy. Like it didn’t go against everything she had ever been taught. As he turned his attention to the window, Nesta swallowed, and when he looked at her over his shoulder, tilted his head as if to say, well?… Stiffly, she nodded.

Blade in hand, he nodded too. The gleam in his eyes said, good.

It was impossible, though, to forget that he was a predator born and bred as he prowled before that window. For the first time that morning, his prying, alert gaze wasn’t on her. The powerful spread of him, the blade in his hand, was focused on the landscape outside. The smirk from earlier, the tilt of lips as he’d called her sweetheart was gone. Vanished and replaced by something far more focused, entirely more deadly.

His wings quivered as he flexed his shoulders, the red stone on his hand gleaming.

“Do all warriors wear jewels to battle?” Nesta asked, nodding curly to the rubies on his hands. She took in the ones at his shoulders and knees too, the one in the centre of his chest. Magnificent things, really. Just one would feed the entire Mandray house for six months.

“Jewels?” he asked, sneaking a glance at her from the corner of his eye. She nodded again at the rubies as his brow furrowed. “They’re not jewels.”

The hand around his blade flexed, fingers lifting from the hilt one by one, curling methodically back around it. Sure and practised, as though the blade were a part of him, fitting easily into his palm.

“They look like jewels to me.”

“Because you’re not an Illyrian.”

Nesta glowered at his back, at the wings that marked him as one of them. As if he could sense her watching - and perhaps he could - he sighed so heavily she thought he might have burst a lung.

“They’re siphons. To control and refine our power.”

“Do all fae have them?”

“No,” he answered curtly. A moment passed, a beat of silence, and then perhaps he regretted his short answer, the finality of it, because after a breath, he continued. “I’m not high fae. Not like Rhys or your sister. Az and I are different. Lesser fae, some call us.” Nesta didn’t see much of a distinction. Higher or lesser— all were monstrous to her, no matter the blood in their veins or the shape of their ears. “Illyrians are born for battle. Killing power, they call it. But it’s brutal and haphazard and dangerous in close quarters, so most of us need a siphon, sometimes two, to make it easier to wield.”

“You have seven,” she pointed out dryly.

Cruelly, he smirked. “So you can count, then?”

The insult smarted, stung even though it shouldn’t. “Of course I can count.”

“Forgive me,” he said, in a voice that said he didn’t want her forgiveness at all. “Since your sister couldn’t read, I assumed your education must have been just as lacking.”

Fury boiled, threatened to bubble over just like the pan she’d watched so intently that morning. Lacking— lacking? Her education had left her with scars. Left her aching and bruised after a day in the schoolroom. Dancing and singing and music, history and languages and geography. Literature and poetry, horse riding and yes— mathematics. Everything to prepare her for a life of nobility— a life as a duchess at least. All of it wasted, and as he folded his arms, Nesta sneered, cruel and cold and vicious.

“I know three languages. I can sing you the history of this land and the mortal lands on the continent like the trilling of a bird. I can run an estate and manage lands better than any man— I don’t lack for anything.”

He turned to face her fully, looked at her with apathy in his eyes. “Then why are you married to a pauper?”

Silence. Vast and echoing silence, almost deafening. Her ears rang with it, her blood hammered, and her chest rose and fell too rapidly as he took a step forwards, the window and the forest beyond entirely forgotten for the moment. Closer, he took each step maddeningly closer, prowling nearer until she could smell him, could feel the heat and warmth of him.

“Because that’s what he is, isn’t he, Nesta?”

She hated it— hated the way he said her name, softly and filled with dangerous, predatory meaning. His eyes were so completely dark, no hint of the taunting gleam from earlier, replaced by something animalistic. Something almost terrifying as he looked at her, spoke her name with a low voice, words slow and purposeful.

A low hum, a vibration deep in his chest. “Your sisters haven’t guessed the scale of it, have they? But let me guess— they know he’s poorer than your father, but do they know how poor?” His eyes fell to the sleeves of the dress she’d borrowed. Somehow, she knew he was picturing the threadbare thing she’d arrived in yesterday, the worn sleeves and the stitches she’d made to salvage it. “Feyre said your father gave you a chest filled with Tamlin’s treasure.” He tilted his head, took another slow step forwards until she could feel his breath dancing over her face, until his powerful chest was almost pressed against hers. “Do your sisters still think there’s any of that coin left?” A cold, cruel blink. “I’d wager it’s gone now, isn’t it? Or running low, at least.”

She drew away, stepped back until the distance between them was large enough for her to breathe again. “You know nothing,” she bit out, her words sharp and cutting.

A mirthless, humourless smile pulled at his lips. “I know what poverty looks like.”

Silence was all she could manage as he turned back to the window, a smug glint in his eyes. Triumph, as if this were a battle he’d just won, and Nesta marched forward until she stood beside him, staring at the glass and the snow-covered lawn outside.

He never had answered her first question.

“Tell me what’s happening,” she demanded. “Where is my sister?”

He snorted. “Now you care whether she lives or dies?”

She clenched her fists, so hard her nails marked her skin, leaving tiny crescents in her palms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You let her go hunting in that forest with little care for her safety,” he answered coldly. The same thing he’d thrown at her last night, the same accusation, and oh, Nesta was tired of holding her tongue. Tired of bearing the blame and the burden alone. 

Enough— she’d had enough of papering over the cracks. Of pretending this was what she had wanted. She was breaking, bending, snapping under the weight of all the lies she’d told, ones crafted to makes others more comfortable. She upheld this ridiculous fiction to stop Elain from ever feeling guilty, to stop her father - who had done nothing to save them in that cottage - from feeling discomfited. And for what? Where had it gotten her except here— being hounded by a creature from above the wall who dared to think he knew her. Dared to think he knew what she had and had not given.

She had nothing left, nothing at all, and Nesta… broke. Shattered.

“I married a brute of a man to give Feyre one less mouth to feed,” she hissed, brutal and ruthless. Easy— it was surprising how easy it was to set those words free. So easy to let them spill from her tongue, burning as they left her, because it was a stranger who listened. One she might never see again— hoped never to see again. It loosened her tongue, and she found herself speaking the truths she had buried because… it was easier. Easier to bare herself to a stranger who looked at her with contempt than face the heartbreak on Elain’s face, hear Feyre’s I-told-you-so. “I sold myself into poverty because it was the only thing I could do, the only thing I had to give,” she added coldly, jabbing her finger into his chest and hoping to hurt, but it was solid and unyielding. “If you think I wanted this, then you’re wrong. You know nothing.”

Hatred punctuated her words as she hit his chest first with her finger, then with the heel of her palm— and he let her. Her breath came in ragged gasps as her hand fell away, as his eyes widened.

She watched as her words had some affect on him, some alchemy she didn’t understand, shifting the ground beneath their feet. His easy, confident gait was suddenly uncertain. Unsure, and for a moment he was speechless. That sharp tongue, razor-like wit, was silenced, and though Nesta had long been used to rendering the men around her tongue-tied… It was never like this. Never with her truths, never with something as simple, as tragic, as the unravelling of her lies.

He swallowed. Had the grace to look guilty as he lowered his hazel eyes. Chastened, humbled. Slowly, he blinked. Looked at her wedding ring as if seeing it - seeing her - in an entirely new light. Something changed. In him, in her— as if her words had broken some spell, or maybe cast one, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that the air between them was suddenly less cold. No less charged, but whatever passed between them with each glance was less fraught, somehow. 

Gone was all trace of victory, of taunting. The stillness that came over him was preternatural, and he straightened as he looked at her, his eyes lingering on the sleeves of her dress - remembering the frayed hems, no doubt - before roving up, spanning her waist that was too thin. She assessed him too, as if this were some kind of truce, some fragile peace.

One that wouldn’t last. As she noted the hair escaping from the bun at the back of his neck, the wings that were pulled back, she knew the taunting and the riling and the arrogance would be back soon enough. She knew— because she looked at him without contempt for the first time, and knew that couldn’t last. This was only the numbness that follows an explosion, the ringing silence that lingers before sound comes flooding back. For that moment, and that moment alone, they were just two people standing in one room, but it was a moment forever bound to break. A bubble waiting to burst.

He made her blood slow in her veins as she noticed the small scar near his eyebrow - what injury was bad enough to scar a fae? - the golden skin and the dark eyes. He smelled of cinnamon and leather and sea salt, and the small ruby studded in his ear glinted as he moved. For a brief, fleeting moment, she saw his walls lower completely, defences all but gone.

Half a minute later, those dark eyes turned glassy, fogged, as though he were no longer fully present. It took a handful of seconds for them to clear, but when the sheen vanished, he took a step back and gave her brisk nod.

“Your sister’s safe,” he said quietly, warrior’s stance relaxing. He looking to the ceiling. “And Elain is still dressing,” he added. “Safe and sound.”

Safe and sound. Nesta felt her heart pound because wasn’t that all she had ever wanted? All she’d sold herself for? Her happiness and her future— gone, to ensure Elain was safe and sound? 

“Thank you,” she said, her voice like a whisper. Sincere, for the first time since meeting him.

It surprised her— and him too, because as he made for the door, strides long and powerful, he turned back. Looked over his shoulder as his finger alighted on the handle, eyes shadowed with something like regret.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Feyre never said.”

She didn’t need him to elaborate. She shrugged, because it was all she could do. “She thought it was what I wanted,” she said idly. After all, she had insisted she was in love with Tomas. Had prayed her sisters would believe it. She couldn’t fault either of them now, for doing exactly as she’d wished. His eyes shuttered, and Nesta hissed for the hundredth time that morning. “I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” he said incredulously, almost pained, agonised as his eyes widened. He huffed, shook his head, dark hair coming loose and falling over his forehead. Quietly, his voice soft despite his size, he added, “You remind me of my mother.”

Something flickered in his eyes then, something Nesta thought might have been sadness. Might have been a well of grief so deep there was no bottom. Beneath it, some burgeoning kind of respect flickered too, a begrudging admission that he’d been wrong last night, as he spat at her across the dinner table. He still stood with his wings spread wide, but his hand dropped from the door handle, sheathing his dagger at last.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” she asked archly, folding her arms over her chest. Just what every girl wants to hear— you remind me of my mother. She huffed, reminding herself that she didn’t want to hear anything from him. Compliment or not. 

“The highest I can give,” he said simply.

He ran a hand through his messy hair and turned the door handle at last. Nesta didn’t know why - couldn’t possibly explain it - but she stepped forward. He paused as she did, as if knowing, somehow, that this wasn’t done, they weren’t finished.

At last, she said, “You never told me your name.”

He turned, a half smile on his face.

“Cassian.”

Tagging: @hiimheresworld @highladyofillyria

#nessian #nessian fic #i am literally about to leave for the airport but wanted to get this posted #i have a feeling its going to be buried because its posted so early so im scheduling a self reblog for later #begged & borrowed time

[forfucksakesniall]

Hi bestie, when you have the time could you make something for lewis, like just domestic vibes and/or he being a complete simp

Domestic Vibes and being a Complete Simp

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Trigger Warning/Content Advisory: Too much fluff

He doesn't show it much, but Lewis is a huge cuddler. When it's a lazy morning, he would bury his face in the crook of your neck and wrap his arms around you. It's a force of habit by now.

Lewis doesn't mind being the "little spoon," wrapping his arms around you as you both cuddle. His reason is because he can hear your heartbeat, but you know why he lays on your chest. You can feel the way he nuzzles his face and leaves small kisses.

He would turn the TV on and watch your favorite shows together while your koala of a boyfriend cuddles under a cozy blanket.

He talks about cooking pasta in an interview, but in reality, he is a menace in the kitchen.

But you enjoy spending time "trying" to cook something decent with him in the kitchen.

"No, Lewis. You need to add the water after." He does his old man laugh. "Oh well, we can just do it again. I guess."

When working out on his balcony in Monaco, he would encourage you to join him, making him your personal trainer. "Just one more, baby," he whispers in your ear. "I can't anymore, Lew." you try to catch your breath. "But you've only done one squat, baby."

When he did have work, he would wake up early and give you a kiss on the head before getting ready. Before he leaves the house, he would give you a kiss goodbye while you were still asleep and leave a message on your phone to see when you get up.

Lewis:

Good morning, baby.

Didn't want to wake you up.

You deserve some rest after last night ;)

I'll see you later.

I love you so much!

I love you too!!

If you ever did wake up before he left, he'd make breakfast for you and make sure to use all the time he has with you.

"You'll be late!" you tell him while he has you caged under him. "I still have some time, baby. Just let me take care of you. Don't want you feeling neglected."

When he comes late, you would wait for him in bed watching a movie or reading a book.

"Hey, baby. Why are you still awake?" he asks you. "I wanted to wait for you. You've been gone all day."

Both of you would end up in long, late-night conversations about life and dreams, making sure you always feel listened to and supported.

There may be times when you feel under the weather or when your hormones are acting up. He would stay with you longer and even call in sick if needed.

"You shouldn't have done that... This will pass. I'll be fine later anyway," you say as you cradle his face while lying in bed.

"I don't want to leave knowing that you're not feeling okay. I would be thinking about you even if I leave. Might as well stay here and take care of you," he says, leaning in close to give you a sweet kiss.

Lewis is known for being fashion-forward. While he shops for himself, he would go to the women's section to check out anything that you might like.

He would come home with dozens of bags from different brands."Looks like someone had Christmas early," you tease him. "Oh baby, this isn't even close to Christmas for you," he tells you while setting all the bags down on the floor. "I need you to be a good girl and try some things for me," he winks while getting more bags from the car.

He is seen on all your social media posts. He can't resist leaving flirty comments and adorable emojis, making sure everyone knows he's head over heels for you.

Lewis is known to be very private with his life, definitely with you. So, whenever you guys were in public, he would always take you to a place where there's a private area to be with you. Being this protective also had its perks. He knows that after they serve your food, no one would come over to check on you two again unless you both are done with your meals. He would be really handsy under the table. Light touches on your arm, the way he looks into your eyes then lips and at the same time leans in closer to you. At this point, the only thing stopping him was the table between you.

But when you're with him or your friends, he doesn't shy away from PDA. He would hug you from behind, holding your waist, have you sit on his lap, kiss your cheek from time to time, and whisper sweet nothings.

Lewis loves taking pictures with you or of you, creating a personalized gallery of your love story.

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton blurb #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton oneshot #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

[axcel-lucci]

Since this month is Halloween and Law's birthday, how about Wereleopard Law x Human Female Reader. Its like a werewolf, except Law transforms into a snow wereleopard on a full moon or during their heat. Nobody but his close friends know about this, not even the reader. Law has been cursed since he's 10. How would female reader reacts to this? Also, Law's in his heat during the transformation, and doesn't want to hurt reader. You can make it spicy and love making. 😋😊

Full moon

Wereleopard!Trafalgar Law x human!reader

A/n: I FORGOT TO POST THIS IM SO SORRY

Next part ==>

My masterlist

"Aiyahhh... another full moon next week." (Y/n) sighed in a pleasing manner.

She always loved the full moon, it looks very pretty in the night sky, doesn't it?

Though she doesn't like it when she has to sleep in the spare bedroom while it does.

"Full... moon..." Law, her husband for at least a year and a half, grumbled. Thinking deeply to himself

"What's wrong... law? And also, you never told me why you make me sleep in the spare bedroom. Hmph" she huffed and crossed her arms.

"It's just..." he groaned, "it's nothing... I'm tired, let's go to sleep." He said as he stood up on the couch and went upstairs

She sighed to herself. Law was a man of secrets, that's for sure, but she doesn't mind that. People have secrets they would rather keep.

But when she asked his friends about it, his really close friends since childhood, Shachi, penguin, and Bepo just tells her it's something he needs to do. For some reason, THEY know.

"This is honestly upsetting" she frowned as she got up to their shared bedroom to change and go to sleep in her side of the bed.

In the middle of the night, she always feels him reach into her just to hug her close and bury his face in her hair, no matter what happens, he always does. Almost caging her body with his so tightly it feels so hot with his body temperature. It would've been lovely if it was a chilly night, but the middle of summer for fucks sake.

In the end though, temperature didn't matter, he just felt at home with her. She didn't mind because it has become a ritual everyday. Even if he comes home at early morning or really late at night. It always ends up with him cuddling her like his personal, human-sized, teddy bear.

But this particular night though, he felt more... warmer than he usually would, like he's taking care of a fever he refuses to let go. At the same time though, he seems fine. Just the temperature.

She just sighed and made a mental note to check him in the morning for any flu or fever.

The next morning, she found him still cuddling her tightly, but now nibbling on her neck in his sleep while groaning a bit.

It wasn't a light nibble, no. It literally left multiple marks. She wondered how she wasn't able to wake up with deep blemishing marks on her exposed neck and shoulder.

"Law..." she yawned and faced him only for him to nibble on the other side of her neck as well. "Law." She called more firmly as he slowly woke up

"Huh..? Hm- what?" He muttered, mind still unorganized by the cradled sleepiness in his brain

"You look so cute today" she giggled and kissed him as he hummed

"Aren't I always...?" He grumbled in his deep morning voice and a mischievous grin

She laughed at that, "of course you are."

Timeskip...

It's now 6 pm, and the moon has settled into its full moon state and it's just so beautiful. Like a sun in the night.

(Y/n) heard Law arrive back home when she heard his car pull up the driveway and his usual groan as he gets out and comes into the house with a "I'm home" in a low manner

"How was work, sweetie?" She asked but he didn't answer.

His cheeks seemed to burn as he rushed up the stairs to their bedroom

He's always like this almost every time it's the full moon. It makes her mad. And she's going to find out why tonight, no matter what.

She locked the door and rushed up after him.

He unfortunately forgot to lock the door as he entered.

He could've feel himself lose control and his mind swirling to never ending chaos, his eyes shifting from every possible surface until he blacks out entirely.

Before (y/n) could enter their room, she heard a loud crash from the inside making her rush in with panic.

She panicked even more when she saw him laying on the floor, clutching his head.

It's dark, sure, but the moon illuminated the room through the curtains.

(Y/n) could see a faint outline of... fur? No, an animal... if it must.

But she could still hear and feel Law's presence within this creature so she rushed to him and wake him up.

"Law...!" She yelled as she tried to touch him only to gasp when he looked at her with gold glowing eyes and a cat like pupil that seemed to narrow before being tackled to the ground

"What...?!" She gasped when the creature licked her cheek

"(Y/n)..." Law muttered as he lowered himself to rest against her body and his head against her chest, looking up at her with an apologetic look, "I didn't mean to scare you... I'm... sorry"

"Law? Is that..." she muttered as she reached a hand for the nearby desk lamp and opened the light slightly.

There she saw him, in his wereleopard form. White with black patches of dots on his fur. His eyes still gold from his human form but has a cat like pupil that seemed to narrow.

"You..."

"I know... I know... I should've told you, I'm sorry. It's just... I don't want you to leave me. More importantly, I don't want to hurt you." He explained before turning to a smaller form like a size of an adult jaguar and curling up with his head buried in her thigh so that he doesn't have to look at her.

"Is this why you wanted me to sleep at the spare bedroom every full moon...?" She asked, he nodded silently.

She sighed deeply before brushing his surprisingly soft fur.

"This is... cute. Honestly" she smiled as Law looked at her and transformed to his original form before pining her against the cold floor

"You're not... scared?" He asks

"Why? I know you would never harm me... and I know you've tried your best not to." She smiled before placing her hands on his cheeks and rubbed them like you would to a cat.

Hearing and feeling him vibrate purrs weren't on her bucket list but it definitely is now.

"Oh you're so cute." She smiled as he laid his heavy body against her

"I'm glad" he smiled and hugged her tightly.

Him being heavy was an understatement, before she could even say anything about it, he bit her shoulder out of nowhere.

Oddly enough, it sent spikes of pleasure down her spine and into her now wet entrance.

"L-law...!" She gasped with a moan once he started to lick the mark he made.

"I'm sorry, (y/n). I couldn't control myself... you see, um... this is embarrassing... but every full moon... I transform... it also lines up with my uhm... heat." He muttered and hid his face from embarrassment against her neck.

"Your... heat? I guess animals and humans aren't so different you've definitely switched me on" she moaned slightly in his ear as it twitched

"Oh yeah?" He smirked before turning to his semi-human form.

It was just Law with his fluffy ears and tail, and kept his wereleopard's size.

"I wonder..." he hummed before suddenly plunging his hand under the waistband of her shorts and panties under her clothes.

"Law...!" She gasped again as he pushed in two fingers and started to thrust them in and out of her, making muffled wet sounds as she gasped and moaned.

"Oh my, so wet..." she smiled before basically ripped her clothes off with his summoned claws.

'really like a cat' the last thing she thought before her brain was turned to mush by Law eating her out aggressively.

Him being in heat was so much more aggressive than he usually is as she yelled when he threw her on the bed.

"Tell me if I hurt you, alright? I'll stop if it hurts you" he says as she nodded.

His tail basically wrapped on her legs tightly by itself to pull her legs apart.

"Law..." she looked at him as he took off all his clothing and crawled over her.

Shadow casted all over him, leaving only his gold eyes to shine and stare through her soul.

It would've scared her in a different context but right now, it made her even more wet.

And he could smell it.

"Right now, you're my mate." He smirked deviously before pulling her other leg unto his shoulder and kissed the inside of her thighs, "and all you have to do is moan and whine for me. Now be a good girl, alright?"

She nods before moaning when he rubbed his thumb against her aroused bud, "what was that, mate? I didn't hear you"

"Y-yes...! Please..."

He couldn't control himself at that moment, foreplay would do next time he's in full control but right now, his mind was set on fucking her so hard she wouldn't be able to think of anything.

With one hand, he rubbed the tip of his shaft against her wet entrance, a small thing made her moan. But she screamed in pleasure once he pushed inside her in one thrust.

He was a bit bigger than his human form is. Though "a bit" is an understatement.

A Bulge formed against her abdomen once he was settled inside her.

The walls inside her clenched and sucked him inside, it was warm and he likes it.

He softly pushed the bulge against her making her moan ecstatically and throw her head back.

That's when all remaining self control snapped like twigs in the wind.

He couldn't remember how fast he went or how many times he made her cum or even how many times he himself came deeply inside her.

All he knew that it was a lot as it started to leak around him while he was still inside.

He wasn't aware of how long it had been but it must've been hours. Judging by the sun peaking through the window, it must've been the whole night.

She was tired and spent by the end of it all.

He slowly pulled out causing her to shiver and moan before calming down and breathing heavily.

"So pretty..." he muttered

But he knew this wouldn't be the last of his heat. He knew it would last days of fucking to get rid of it entirely.

And he knows (y/n) would be able to handle it.

While she rested, he laid beside her while looking at her. Observing every single bit of her beautiful complexity.

He could see his seed still leaking out of her, it made him proud to have fucked his babies inside of her.

Whether it'll get her pregnant will be future him's problem.

#random #night thoughts #trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x y/n #one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar d law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law x reader smut #trafalgardwaterlaw #law x reader smut #law smut #law x you #one piece law #op law #op.law #op #one piece trafalgar d water law #one piece trafalgar law

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: New Hire [6]

previous chapter

Pairing: Alpha!Mob!Ari Levinson x Naive!Omega!Reader

Summary: After escaping your demanding, violent father, you get your first job nannying for Ari Levinson.

Warnings: Manipulation, Spanking, Mob AU, Obsessive behavior, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Ari, Dubcon, Darkfic, Breeding, Smut, MINORS DNI, Dead dove: Do not eat

A/N: hello everyone! back from my little hiatus with a brand new chapter of New Hire. i’ve been getting soooo many asks about this series, i’m so stoked everyone’s enjoying it so far! this chapter’s a little long, and… smutty, so… drink water 🤣 divider by @firefly-graphics​

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

You wake with Ari curled around your back, soft snores rumbling in his chest. It isn’t often that he’s not up before you, already waiting downstairs despite your best efforts to beat him there. His hand rests heavily on your hip, his fingers curled underneath the skimpy hem of your new pajamas. You shift, and his grip tightens instantly. Ari mumbles something in his sleep, and you giggle silently, trying hard not to wake him. 

 Turning in his arms is no easy feat but you manage, resting your palms against his chest. You’ve never really gotten to observe him at rest before; even relaxed Ari is at attention, ready to move to act if the situation were to suddenly require it. His golden hair is tousled, laying messily across his forehead. His lips are slightly parted, and you can hear the sound of his breath whispering though them. 

 He’s so handsome.

 You know your mate is attractive—you’ve known it since you first laid eyes on him. But watching him like this, he seems, you don’t know, softer. Less hard lines and jagged edges. There’s an embarrassed sort of pride that rears its head at the thought that this man had chosen you, out of every other possible option. 

 You. 

 Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re tracing the curve of his cheek with the back of your hand. He stirs with a groan, his nose wrinkling. 

 “Mm, Kitten,” he mumbles, eyes opening to slits. “Wha’ time’ssit?” You giggle, and he lets out a sleepy, frustrated hmph.

 “Early,” you answer quietly, laughing again when he groans, pulling you tighter to his chest and burying his face in your hair. Ari heaves a satisfied sigh. He’s comforted by having you so close, you can feel it in the bond. 

 “Go back to sleep,” he instructs sternly, and you laugh again. “S’too early.” The last few days had been hectic, Liam bouncing off the walls while Ari prepared for your surprise—and while you did your best to forget the sound of a man begging for his life. You feel guilty, mostly because you don’t feel as shameful and penitent as you probably should. 

 Every time the guilt begins to creep in, you remember Liam’s frightened face, and your own feral panic. 

 He deserved what he got, murmurs the dark, feral voice living in your hindbrain. Deserved it ten times over. Ari’s warm hands draw you out of your own head, the silky fabric of your new nightie bunching underneath his touch. 

 “Can hear you thinking from here, Omega,” he chastises you in a voice still gravelly from sleep. “You’re not sleeping.” Your cheeks heat so rapidly, you wonder if he can feel them smoldering against his chest. It’s not that you aren’t tired—you are. Your brain just hasn’t let you get a single moment of rest in since you’d found yourself awake just before sun-up. You just can’t stop turning the events of the last month over in your head, like you’re still trying to get a grip on them. 

 Something has happened to you in these past few weeks. Something that’s continuing to happen the longer you find yourself in the company of your mate. The slow but persistent eroding of beliefs you’d previously considered to be unshakeable. That right was right and wrong was wrong, and those lines couldn’t be confused or crossed. But now the lines are blurry and runny like paint, and it’s hard for you to tell which is which—if there was ever really a difference. 

 “Talk to me, Kitten.” You make a surprised noise in the back of your throat, twitching against him as you sink deeper into his warmth. His lips move gently against your temple. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

 “Just… everything,” you say quietly, glad you don’t have to find a way to avoid Ari’s searching gaze, pressed against his chest as you are. “M-my father, and Peter, and…” You trail off, not wanting to mention Clarence’s head becoming red paste on the concrete outside. 

 “Mm.” Ari hums low in his throat. “Quill is… certainly a problem.” He rolls over onto his back. Ari scrubs a hand down over the scruff of his beard tiredly. You curl up against his side, resting a timid hand on the hard planes of his chest. You remember him the way he was on the playground; determined, stubborn. 

 “Do you think… he’ll stop now?” You ask hopefully, glancing up at Ari. He leans down to kiss your forehead once again. 

 “I don’t think so, Kitten.” You can tell he wants to lie, to reassure you that it’s over, but that he can’t quite bring himself to do so. 

 “Why?” Ari looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t want to answer. 

 “Because men in our positions don’t like to give up something for nothing, Kitten.” You feel a cool shiver run down your spine at his words. “And for Quill, sweetheart, you represent quite an investment.” 

 You can’t stop thinking about it, even after Liam has roused the two of you from your nest of sheets and blankets. 

 An investment. 

 Was that all you had been to your father, too? An investment? Something to use to trade up at the most lucrative opportunity? It keeps you distracted all day, long after Ari leaves for work. You try to keep Liam occupied, but fail as he runs circles around you easily while you’re preoccupied. 

 “Um, can I go over Mary’s house?” He asks you as he wolfs down the peanut butter sandwich you made him for lunch. There’s peanut butter smeared across one of his round little cheeks as he looks up at you with imploring eyes. You raise an eyebrow at him. 

 “Oh? Am I not cool enough for you?” You ask jokingly, and Liam, ever serious, shakes his head. You’re about to ask him what exactly constitutes cool when your phone begins vibrating in your pocket. “Hello?”

 “Kitten, are you busy?” Ari’s voice filters through the receiver. 

 “No,” you reply. “Well, only if you count getting a lesson in how uncool I am from a six year old.” 

 “Ouch.”

 “Yeah.” He chuckles at your response. 

 “I don’t suppose you could take a break from that to swing by the office with my work phone, could you sweetheart? I left it in the bedside table, that first drawer.”

 “Oh, um, sure. I could do that.” 

 “Thanks, Kitten.” Ari’s satisfied purr makes a little shiver travel down your spine. 

 “I guess you get off light today, sir,” you say to Liam, stowing your cell back in your pocket. “You get to go to Mary’s while I run an errand for Dad.” You haven’t been to the office often, maybe once or twice in the months since you’d been hired—not counting your interview. Come to think of it, you know remarkably little about Ari’s business exploits and where his money comes from, despite how easily he wants you to spend it. 

 It doesn’t take much to get Liam ready to go. You instruct him to pick out two—and two only—of his favorite toys to bring with him while you head upstairs to look for Ari’s phone. It’s precisely where he said it was, in the first drawer in the bedside table. You pick it up gingerly, squeaking a little with surprise as the screen lights up at your touch. It’s locked, of course, but you can still see bits of messages, unchecked notifications. 

 You don’t mean to look—really, you don’t—but you can’t help it, your eyes drawn down by a new notification flashing across the screen. It’s a number you don’t recognize, and one Ari doesn’t have saved. Your breath catches in your tight throat as you read them, hot tears gathering in your wide eyes. 

 Unknown Number: It’s a good offer. You won’t receive better, not for an Omega that’s been…used. 

 Your heart pounds in your chest. What offer? The urge to curl in on yourself grows. Perhaps you are too much trouble after all, more than you’re worth, and Ari’s finally realized it. Your own father hadn’t seen you as anything more than a bargaining chip, and the realization that Ari might be the same makes the blood curdle into shards of sharp ice in your veins. Your stomach rolls as you re-read the message. Used. Is that what Ari thinks of you?

 The phone vibrates again and you almost drop it, sniffling. 

 Unknown Number: I won’t wait long for an answer, you know, Levinson. And neither will Senator Ego.

 “Are we going?” Liam’s irritated whine makes your head snap up, and you wipe furiously at your wet cheeks. You hope your smile is convincing as you nod at him, unable to speak. You don’t trust your voice not to tremble and crack, so you refrain from saying anything at all as you pack Liam’s bag with trembling hands. Ari wasn’t supposed to be like your father, he was supposed to be different, better. 

 Act like a whore, get treated like a whore, your father’s venomous words play on an endless loop in your skull, no matter how many times you try to stop it. It’s the same thing he’d said to you after you dragged yourself back to the trailer from the homecoming after-party you weren’t supposed to attend, your dress muddy from the dirt under the bleachers and Philip Baker’s spend drying on your thighs. 

 That’s what he’d called you in the driveway too—a whore. Is that what you are? 

 There’s bile, burning acid in your throat as you walk stiffly up the steps to Frank Adler’s house. House isn’t really the right word for it, somewhere between “home” and “mansion”. You pick nervously at your fingernails after ringing the bell, pulling at your nail-beds until you wince. 

 “Mr. Levinson, I’ve been expecting you,” Frank greets Liam as he opens the door. Liam giggles and hides behind your legs. “Mary says she’s ‘sourced the part’, and I hope it’s not something I need to be concerned about.” He raises an eyebrow. Liam shakes his head profusely. 

 “We’re building a secret clubhouse.” He whispers, and Frank nods knowingly. “Don’t tell Mary I told you.” 

 “I won’t. I promise I don’t go into my own backyard all that much.” He says resolutely, and motions for him to come inside. “How are you?” Frank shifts his gaze to you, and without Ari there to deflect, you’re uncomfortable with the attention. Maybe that’s why he wants to ditch you. Stupid. Naive—

 “I’m fine.” The words come out stilted. “Just. Running an errand. For Ari.” 

 “Of course.” He looks down at Liam’s bag with a squint. “You packed heavy.”

 You force a smile. “I like to be prepared.” Frank smiles back at you, and you swallow thickly. 

 “Of course.” He repeats it, and you look down at Liam. 

 “Have fun, bud.” He grins up at you in a way that makes your heart ache.

 “Okay!”

 Your hands are shaking as you get the keys back out of your pocket. Ari wants you to come to the office, but you have no intention of doing that. Hot tears gather in your eyes as you navigate out onto the street. You can’t stay parked at Frank’s, but you don’t want to go to Ari. It’s not even an option to go to your father—and you don’t know where he is, even if it was. 

 You drive aimlessly for half an hour before you decide on a direction, ignoring the incessant buzzing of both your phone and Ari’s in the glove compartment until you’re forced to shut them off. There’s a twinge of his concern in the bond, but you shut it down quickly, and immediately feel its absence. 

 The house you’re looking for is on the corner after the next left you take, and you pull haphazardly into the spot out front. You’re still crying, staccato breaths making your chest hurt as you lean your forehead against the steering wheel. 

 You don’t know why you remember this address, considering you’ve only been here one time. Sessions are normally at the old bank building, since converted into offices, but you’d been here once when the office flooded, and Dr. Nicholson was forced to accommodate you elsewhere. Even so, it stuck in the gray matter of your brain, and now here you were, months later. 

 Shifting nervously from foot to foot, you wrap your arms around your middle after knocking. You’re considering leaving, fleeing back to the car when the door opens. 

 “I-I’m sorry. I just, I didn’t know where to go.” Dr. Nicholson stares at you in open shock, before she pushes her square glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’m—I know this was supposed to only be for emergencies, and I, I—” She places a warm hand on your shoulder. 

 “Please come in.” 

 —

 Ari knows something is very wrong before Frank calls, but seeing his friend’s name appear on his personal phone drives home the worry. 

 “What’s wrong? Is it Liam?”

 “No, no, he’s fine. He and Mary are building some kind of clubhouse outside, and as far as I know there’s no power tools involved. No, it’s your mate. She seemed… I dunno. Upset. Squirrelly.” 

 Ari’s fist clenches against the desk. “How long ago did you see her?”

 “Ten. Fifteen minutes maybe.”  He curses. 

 Ari reaches out through the bond, and he feels you shut him out quickly, tasting only an echo of your fear before the link is dead and cold. 

 “Thanks, Frank. I’ll check on her.” He’s up and out of his chair before he hangs up. 

 What spooked you? Obviously seeing him kill a man hadn’t done wonders for your relationship, but he had been making real progress. Martine is waiting outside the office doors, her fist poised to knock.

 “Oh! Sir. I have—”

 “Leave it on my desk, please,” Ari replies, cutting her off with a grim smile. “I have an urgent family matter to attend to.” 

 “I see. Yes, sir.” 

 Ari takes the stairs down to the parking lot, slamming the door too hard on his way into the stairwell. He’d told you about leaving without telling him, about going places alone, unprotected—no. It won’t do to get angry with you, that won’t help him find you. According to Frank, you’d dropped off Liam and left, hadn’t mentioned anything about where you were going or why. 

 He gets into the car, dialing your number while he slots the key into the ignition with his other hand. It goes straight to voicemail. You haven’t set it up yet, and the robotic default greets him stiltedly. 

 “The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave a message after the beep. Have a wonderful day.” 

 “Kitten it’s me, it’s Ari.” He lets out a heavy breath. “Sweetheart you’re scaring me. You didn’t come to the office, you’re shutting me out…” He trails off before carding his fingers through his hair. “I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong.” He hangs up, and is dialing again as he pulls out of his parking space. One hand grips the steering wheel hard enough to force the blood out of his knuckles, and the other holds the phone. 

 It doesn’t even ring this time before it goes straight to voicemail. 

 “The number you have dialed is not available—”

 “Fuck!” He throws the phone into the passenger seat, hard. “Fuck.” He isn’t used to this, the frantic, nervous energy running through his veins, begging him to do something, anything—only he doesn’t know what to do. There are a thousand thousand scenarios, each running through Ari’s mind on their own terrible loop. Could Quill have had you picked up? Perhaps sent your father sniffing around again? He slams a fist against the dashboard. He’d felt your confusion, your upset and pain before you’d cut him out completely, and they stick in his throat, making it tight and uncomfortable. 

 He isn’t used to feeling this out of control, to not having the pieces adjusted on the board to his liking. Ari nervously fingers the silver chain peeking out from between the undone buttons at the collar of his shirt, poking the Star of David’s points into the fleshy pads of his fingers. Ari tries to calm down, breathing deeply as he pushes the unfamiliar feeling of panic down and away. 

 There’s still so much of your fear and uncertainty in the bond that it makes his chest ache. He sits there in the car, his eyes shut and hands on the steering wheel as Ari pokes at the bond again. The hard wall you’d drawn down between you was no longer quite as solid, the barest hint of your feelings trickling through the cracks. You’re safe—he exhales a sigh of relief. Not happy, but the turmoil you’d felt earlier had dissipated.

 And then, suddenly, it’s like a lightbulb turning on in his head—Ari knows exactly where you are. 

 —

 “You’re overwhelmed. And it makes sense, given everything you’ve told me.” Dr. Nicholson pats your knee with a reassuring smile. “I mean, last we spoke, you didn’t even have a boyfriend, and here you are with a mating mark, and a son, all at the same time. It can’t be easy.” You’d been on her couch for the last three hours, something of an extreme-emergency session to make up for the ones you’d missed in the weeks since your life had turned completely on its head. There had always been a reason to reschedule—Liam needed you, Ari needed you, something needed doing or finishing or starting, and you’d quickly become lost in the shuffle. 

 Your eyes are still red and puffy from the hysterical tears that had stopped an embarrassingly short time ago, around the first cup of tea Dr. Nicholson had brought for you—you were now well into your third. It’s embarassing, to be told what you’re feeling, but it’s so hard for you to pick through the maze of emotions you’d never really been allowed to acknowledge or share on your own. It makes sense now, to hear her say it. Overwhelmed. That’s exactly what you’d been feeling. 

 The knock at the door surprises both of you, and you jump, glancing nervously in the direction of the sound. Dr. Nicholson offers you a calm smile. 

 “I’ll get it. I’m sure it’s fine, you just stay here and relax.” You nod meekly, taking another sip of tea as you mull over your latest enlightenments. 

 “You’re a people pleaser. It’s okay, lots of us are. Because of the way you were required to manage your father’s emotions when you were only a child, and especially after your mother passed. You deserve to make choices for yourself. What do you want? What are your needs?”

 You bite your lip, running your finger around the rim of the mug. You don’t know. Dimly, you’re aware of the sound of the front door opening, but that isn’t what jolts you to attention. It’s like electricity passes through the bond, forcing it all the way open as you gasp—

 Ari is here. You know it as surely as you would know he was standing behind you. Goosebumps appear on your bare arms, and you rub them nervously as you listen to the sound of muffled voices with your heart in your throat. The sound of footsteps makes you jump up from your seat in the weathered old armchair. You’re not entirely sure what you want to do with your hands, so you tighten your grip on the handle of the mug until it hurts. 

 When Dr. Nicholson re-enters the room, her mouth is set into a grim line, tight at the corners. 

 “I… Well, I wanted to inform you that your mate is here,” she says, and you nod. She’s only confirming what you already know. “I know we talked about some very sensitive things, and I just wanted to make sure you know that you have agency, in your life and in your… relationship. You don’t have to do things just because someone else says you do.” She casts a rather reproachful look down the hallway. 

 “Thank you.” You scratch absently at the mark on your throat—it’s warm to the touch. “I’ll try to remember that.” 

 Ari is waiting for you on the porch, his arms folded over his broad chest as he leans against the bannister. His face is schooled into an expression of neutral calm, and if not for the tension coiling tight like a spring in the foundations of the bond, you might have believed it. Your gaze drops nervously down to your shoes as Ari stands up straight, his footfall heavy on the wooden slats as he approaches you. 

 “Kitten.” He slides a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up. Slowly, he turns your head from side to side, his fingers trailing over his mark as he checks you over. You swallow thickly. “Are you hurt?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

 “N-no.” 

 He watches you in silence for a moment, before he turns sharply on his heel. 

 “Let’s go.” 

 You try to make yourself as small as possible as you walk back to the car, your shoulders hunched and your head down. You don’t want to draw any attention to yourself, not now when you can almost feel his fury as if it was your own. He ignores the Jeep you haphazardly parked out front, and you’re too anxious to ask him if he wants you to drive it home. Instead, you slide silently into the passenger seat of his car. You watch him make his way around to the driver’s side door as you anxiously twist your fingers together, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

 You spend the majority of the ride in silence, sneaking furtive glances over at your quiet mate. When he pulls in to the driveway at the house, Ari cuts the engine, but doesn’t get out of the car. 

 “Why did you do that, Kitten?” He asks quietly, his hands still wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. When he does look at you, cold hard lead settles into the pit of your stomach. 

“I thought…“ He trails off, scoffing, and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I thought something happened to you, that fucking Quill—!” He cards a hand through his hair and blows out a breath. 

 “I saw the texts.” You mumble quietly, staring at your knees as you clench your hands into angry, fearful fists of your own. “T-the offer you were considering.” The silence that reigns between you is so empty that you feel forced to fill it. “An Omega that’s been used.” You spit the words out angrily as you curl into yourself. “Is that what-what I am to you?” 

 “Oh, Kitten.” Ari scrubs a hand down his face. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” 

 “That seems to be a thing with you.” You clap a hand over your own mouth. Those were not the words you’d meant to say. Something soft and accommodating was supposed to come out, not…that. 

 “Watch it.” He snaps, narrowing his eyes at you. You’re afraid of incurring his anger, but there’s another emotion there too, one you don’t really let yourself feel as often as you should. 

 You’re angry. 

 “You watch it! You—you don’t tell me everything,” you argue. You can tell that Ari is as surprised by your persistence as you are. “Y-you keep secrets from me, and, and you expect me to just… do whatever you want be-because you say so, and—” You know you’re rambling, and Ari holds up a hand to silence you. 

 “Kitten if you think after everything I’ve done to keep you that I’m letting go now, I… I must not have shown you who I am as well as I thought I did.” Ari braces his arms against the steering wheel, and blows out a frustrated breath. “It’s true, I don’t tell you everything,” he admits. “You’re… you scare easy, Sweetheart. Look at today.” 

 Your cheeks grow hot. “If I had known what was going on, I wouldn’t have 

left,” you say indignantly, and Ari scoffs. 

 “You can’t do that to me.” He levels you with a hard look. “You know you could have come to me, asked questions, instead of assuming.” You don’t have a response for that. “Kitten I was fucking terrified. I couldn’t find you, couldn’t feel you. I thought… I don’t know what I thought.” He shakes his head, and you swallow against the thick lump in your throat. You hadn’t thought, really, about what it might feel like for him to be shut out of the bond, left in the dark without a word. The bright flame of righteous anger burning in your chest dims. 

“Quill could have picked you up, anything could have happened to you,” he chastises you. “I can’t protect you when you run from me, Kitten.” He slips a finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “How can I keep you safe if you don’t trust me?” The space behind your eyes burns with hot, unshed tears.  

“Yes, one of Ego’s men contacted me.” He runs a hand through his hair. “But I needed to make sure I knew who our allies were before I responded, Kitten.” 

 You do trust Ari—or at least, you thought you did. You’d been scared, only thinking of your own self-preservation.

  “I do trust you,” you say in a small voice. “I just…” you trail off, struggling to put words to the emotions swimming around in your skull. “My whole life, my parents told me I had one thing to offer. Just one. And when I saw those messages, Ari, they scared me, okay?” You admit, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. “They scared me because I thought he was right. That… that I gave you what you wanted, and you’d be done with me, now.” 

 “Kitten.” Ari ducks his head until he finds your gaze, and holds it. “I put a man in the dirt for you. Do you really think I’d trade you after that?” Hot guilt warms your face. “If there was even chance that I thought this,” Ari gestures between the two of you, “wasn’t going to work, I would never have marked you.” 

 Ari is a man of his word, you know that. Every promise he’s made you, he’s kept—it’s more than anyone else has ever given you. You… you care about Ari, enough to not want to hurt him. Enough to try and keep the promise you had made him, that you would let him show you how good life with him could be. 

 “I’m sorry.” You mean it. 

 “I know, Kitten.” Somehow, his disappointment is worse than his anger. Ari unbuckles his seatbelt, and tugs the keys out of the ignition. The two of you exit the car, and head into the quiet house. You’re not quite sure what to do with yourself, and you flutter just at the edges of the room, watching Ari move through it. The tension he feels is written in his neck and shoulders. He reaches up to rub stiffly at them with one hand while he opens the fridge with the other. You watch as he twists the cap off of a beer bottle. 

 “Liam’s going to stay at Frank’s tonight,” he says over his shoulder. “We’ll go get him tomorrow.” There’s only a counter between you, but it feels like a continent. He’s right here, and he hasn’t blocked you from the bond, but it feels like you’re alone. You approach him tentatively, and though he doesn’t stop you, he makes no move to welcome you, either. 

 “Ari?” He takes another sip from his beer. You place your hand softly on top of his on the counter, and he doesn’t pull away. “I—I should have trusted you, and I didn’t. I’m sorry.” You’re tempted to touch the mark on your throat but you don’t. His gaze softens just a little, and he takes another swallow.

 “You mean that?”

 You nod. “Yes.” Ari drains the bottle, and sets it on the counter with a sharp click. “I-I really am sorry—” Ari hushes you, holding up a hand. Your breath and the words you were going to say both catch in your throat. Ari grasps your chin, and for a moment he just looks at you. You feel judged, and you can only hope you don’t come up wanting. 

 “Get upstairs.” He says sharply after a moment of holding your gaze. His thumb passes over your parted lips. “You’re going to show me just how sorry you are, Omega.” 

 You gape at him for a moment, almost asking if he’s serious, but the hard set of your mate’s jaw tells you that question would not be well received. You scramble up the stairs, but Ari isn’t behind you. You pause at the top of the stairs, waiting for him to come around the curve, but you don’t see him. The setting sun has painted the room in molten orange. You perch yourself at the edge of the bed in a pool of it, fiddling with the delicate pendant at your throat. 

When he does walk through the door, he barely spares you a look. He undoes his tie with sure fingers, and begins on the buttons of his shirt. You lick your lips nervously. 

 “Ari?” The look he fixes you with is icy enough to make you regret saying anything.

 “I don’t remember telling you to speak.” There’s a cruel, almost mocking edge to his words that makes you shiver. Your mouth snaps shut audibly, and his lips curl into a cold smile. “Good girl.” He takes a painfully long time with the buttons, slowly undoing each one. 

 “Kitten you made me very angry today,” Ari says as he folds the shirt over his thick forearm. “Do you know why?” Your tongue feels like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth as you swallow dryly. 

 “I… I shut you out,” you say tentatively, and Ari inclines his head, like he’s imploring you to continue. “And I broke my promise.” 

 “That’s a start.” He lays the shirt neatly across the dresser. “What else?” 

 “I left without telling you?”

 “Kitten you put yourself in danger.” Ari folds his arms across his chest and frowns at you. “Come.” It isn’t an Alpha command, but it doesn’t matter. Your body lurches into motion anyway. You stand in front of him nervously, and Ari fingers the hem of your shirt as his nose wrinkles. 

 “Take this off. All of it.” He watches you with dark, unreadable eyes. You’ve never seen Ari this angry with you before—naively, you had thought perhaps that he would never be. You’re still nervous to stand there in front of him, and you’re tempted again to speak, but you resist the urge. 

 It’s a strange and thrilling intersection, your fear of your mate’s reprisal and your body’s response to his need to exert dominance. You cock your head to the side, submissively exposing the side of your throat. Ari makes a low, appreciative noise, trailing his fingers across the healed mark at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You still aren’t used to the wanton heat that is steadily growing at the apex of your thighs at the intensity of Ari’s scent, aren’t used to the wild, rampant need he inspires in you. 

 You know he can scent it, the way his nostrils twitch and his pupils dilate. There is almost as much being said without words as with them, you realize as you watch him. He’s not going to give you orders or instructions—he wants you to prove how sorry you are, to reaffirm that you’re his, that you want to be. He’s still angry, you can see it in the stiffness of his jaw, the square set of his shoulders. He’s waiting—waiting to see what you’ll do. 

 Ari doesn’t stop you when you reach for the button on his pants. You peek up at him through your lashes, waiting for reprisal that doesn’t come. The plush bedroom carpeting is soft under your knees when you drop to them, your mate silently watching as you pull his pants down his toned thighs. His cock is already half hard, the thick outline of it through his briefs makes your tongue dart out to wet your dry lips. 

 You trace the shape of him with your finger, and he throbs under your touch. As you slide the elastic band down, his cock bounces out, shiny precum beading at the tip. A soft, surprised breath escapes from between your lips, and your cheeks heat up with embarrassment when Ari laughs. He’s velvet smooth, veins throbbing hotly underneath the skin as you palm the heavy weight of his cock in your hands. 

 He hums with approval when you stroke him, straining to touch your thumb and forefinger around his girth. You lean forward, wetting your lips with your tongue before lapping tentatively at his head. Salty and musky but not unpleasant.

  Ari is watching you, you don’t need to look to confirm it. You can feel his eyes on you as you lean forward to close your lips completely around the head of his cock. His hips buck softly, forcing him deeper into your mouth. Emboldened, you cup the heavy weight of his sac in one hand, kneading it gently between your fingers. He hisses, pulling away, and the head of his cock slips from between your lips with a soft pop. You sit primly on your knees, watching as your mate palms his cock with a groan. 

 “Open your mouth, Omega. Tongue out.” You do as he says, opening your mouth wide as your tongue lolls out over your bottom lip. Ari taps his cock against the flat of your tongue, thrusting into your open mouth. He makes a lusty, appreciative noise deep in his throat and strokes your jaw with the back of his hand. 

“I wish you could see yourself, Kitten.” He says, pushing in until the head of his cock bumps the back of your throat. You gag around him a little and he curses under his breath, holding himself there for a second longer before pulling out. Your cunt clenches helplessly around nothing and tears gather in the corners of your eyes as Ari repeats the motion, sliding his cock back and forth over your tongue and down your throat. 

 There’s a growing buzz at the back of your skull, a pleasant hazy feeling that makes your eyelids droop as you nurse at Ari’s dick, tongue moving against his shaft. You tug softly at his balls, and Ari’s hips stutter, a low moan leaving his lips. 

 “Good, Kitten,” he praises you. The needy, feral thing in your hindbrain purrs excitedly. Alpha is pleased. “Need you just like this.” He thrusts all the way in until your nose bumps the trimmed hair at the base of his thick cock. Ari’s cock is halfway down your throat, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth as you stare up at him with glassy, wet eyes. You struggle to breathe around him, short, shuddering breaths making your vision swim. Ari pulls out, stroking himself with an appreciative groan as he stares at your cock-drunk face. 

 “Bed.” You rush to obey, clamoring onto the mattress. “Present, for me, Kitten.” It sends a thrill through you, not to be able to see him as you press your forehead to the duvet, though you can feel him behind you. You shudder as he runs a finger down your soaked, messy slit, and he clucks his tongue at you. “Dripping,” he says, laughing. Embarrassment makes your face hot even as your cunt sucks at the tip of his index finger. “Enjoy sucking Alpha’s cock, Sweetheart?” When you don’t answer right away, he delivers a stinging slap that you hear before you feel, the cheek of your ass smarting.

 “Y-yes!” He soothes the sting with a gentle pass of his hand before he delivers another one. You squirm, yelping as you press your face into the mattress. 

 “Do you know why this is happening, Omega?” He asks, the palm of his hand cracking across your ass again as you let out a miserable moan. Ari’s fingers slip between the cheeks of your ass, playing at your entrance as you try to cobble together an answer. 

 “I-I d-didn’t trust A-alpha,” you whimper. You’re wetter than ever, his fingers making lewd squelching sounds as they slide through your folds. Ari pulls back only to strike you again with another sharp slap. 

 “And?”

 “A-and I—ah!” Ari’s palm connects again, and this time a sob leaks from between your trembling lips. The contrast between the thick fingers playing at your entrance and the stinging numbness is dizzying, and Ari doesn’t give you a chance to breathe, refusing to let up as he lays into you, hard. 

 “You made me worry about you,” he says, his voice low, angry. Another spank. “You shut me out.” Another, and another until you’re gasping for air, tears soaking into the sheets below you. 

 “I’m sorry! I’m sorry Alpha!” You cry, voice muffled as you wait for another round of harsh spanks that don’t come. Instead, you feel Ari’s arms encircle your waist, and you hiccough as he draws you against his chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your face into the hollow of his neck, sniffling. 

 “This doesn’t happen again, Omega,” he says sternly, even as he presses his face into your hair. “Understand?”

 “Yes, Alpha,” you say meekly, lifting a trembling hand to wipe at your puffy cheeks. A low, pleased rumble emanates from his chest. 

 “Good.” Ari nudges your thighs apart with his hand, cupping your swollen, messy cunt against his palm. You mewl against his throat as he sinks two fingers into your wet heat, testing your readiness. You clench around them eagerly, and he chuckles. “My needy Omega,” he says. “You want me to split you open on my knot, don’t you Kitten?” You nod eagerly, and you can hear the smug grin in his voice. “Beg.” 

 You run your tongue across your dry lips. “Please, Alpha.” 

 “I can’t hear you.” You lean away from his neck, your face warm.

 “Please—”

 “Look at me.” Slowly, you drag your eyes up to his.  

 “Please, Alpha.” Ari says nothing, but you feel his grip tighten on your hips. It’s the only warning you get before he slams you down onto his cock. The words in your throat die in a ragged moan as his cock forces them out of you. The slight sting of his entry is more than made up for by the delicious fullness that makes you groan as he presses in as far as he possibly can, his teeth bared. Your thighs tighten around his hips, fingers digging into his shoulders as he ruts up into you. 

 “Kitten this fucking pussy,” he growls, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tugs your head to the side. “Can’t get enough.” You can already feel his knot swelling at the base of his cock, and the stretch of it makes your eyes roll. Warm, heady pleasure erodes most of your conscious thoughts, and Ari is driving it, pushing you further and further, as far as he can. 

 Your legs tremble and seize about his hips as you cum, sticky pleasure rolling down your nerve endings like honey as you float. Ari fucks you straight through, holding you tight enough to bruise as he buries himself inside you as far as he possibly can. His thick cock feels even thicker for the knot locking the two of you in place, and you shudder as his teeth slide into the mark at your neck. 

 He pants wetly against your throat, holding you still as the air cools between you. Ari traces patterns on your hip with his fingers, and you press a soft kiss to his collarbone. After a minute or two, he pulls back, his mouth leaving your throat. 

 “I really am sorry.” You say in a small voice, and he sighs, his arms tightening around you briefly before relaxing. 

 “I know, Kitten.” He sighs. “I shouldn’t have kept things from you.” You try hard not to look surprised. It isn’t often that your mate admits wrongdoing, and you know it isn’t easy for him to eat crow. “I’m going to try and be better about that.” 

 “I promise not to shut you out again.” You rest your head against his chest. “And you promise to be honest with me.” 

 “I promise.” 

 “Good.” 

to be continued…

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[shingisimp]

warm me up [s.mg]

song mingi x female reader

when naked morning cuddles take a turn, you're left to rely on your boyfriend to soothe your pain, but you come up with a much better suggestion...

warnings: smut, size kink (reader is very small), mentions of pain (specifically stomach cramps that aren't related to periods!), implied body image issues from reader (big bellies are beautiful), swearing, so much fluff, mingi is just the softest boyfriend ever plz 🥺

words: idk how to find out yet

note: hello my loves! this is my first fanfic i'm posting to tumblr! i've been writing fanfic for around 3-4 years and finally wanted to upload one myself. i'm not expecting much- i just hope that you enjoy this. this post is super self-indulgent as i suffer from suspected endometriosis, and so this was written when i was having pretty painful stomach cramps as a result of that. otherwise, please enjoy, like and reblog this! mwah!!

works under the cut <3

today would've been perfect. beams of golden sun streamed past the crack in the shut curtains, warming the expanse of your chilled, naked back as your front lay flush with mingi's own, both on your sides as if to face each other. his chin became nestled into the top of your head, bowing down occasionally to allow the man movement, only for him to bury the very tip of his nose into your hair. you smelled sweet, clean but not like cosmetics- it was just you, and mingi adored it. it reminded him of cotton bedsheets, the early morning sunshine, foaming bubbles suspended in steamy bath water, home. he sighed deeply, content, arms thrown about your waist and tightening softly, enough to remind your dozing mind of his presence. you reciprocated mingi's gentle exhale, air blowing onto his torso, and he giggled at the tickle that rose goosebumps to his skin.

everything remained blissful, everything remained perfect. and it would've stayed that way if it weren't for the cramping of your stomach. it came in waves, washing intense pain over your body right when you had managed to settle enough to feel calm. when the pain struck again, your face crunched its features into one, forehead pushing into mingi's chest as your whole body became stiff and sore. he took the brute of your actions, because no matter how heavy the dull ache was that he felt from your limbs clamping around his body, it didn't amount to the crippling sensation that shot through you, and he knew that. mingi shushed you softly as you whimpered, nails digging bluntly into his bare skin.

"you're so brave, baby," his tone was sweet, voice deep and soothing. silently, you allowed your shaky breaths to fall into sync with his, clenching your jaw before mingi brought a hand to stroke your cheek. the simple gesture reminded you to relax it, nudging your head under his palm and coaxing your boyfriend to play with your hair. he did so happily with a warm smile, mesmerised by the way your hair would flow around his digits.

"i don't feel it, oh god-" involuntarily, your body seized once again. a dry sob choked from the back of your throat before mingi urged you to silence once again, still weaving your hair between his digits. he began massaging your scalp, hoping to at least lull you to sleep. he knew you couldn't rest like this, however, but he'd still try.

"i'm so sorry you have to go through this, my love. it'll stop I promise, you'll feel okay again," reassurance usually didn't go so far with you during pain days (an all-too innocent name for what described almost weeks of agony) but you were desperate to feel better, and so ate his words up and swallowed them quick, in hope that they could quell the pain.

"here, let me move a second. i'll rub your stomach, yeah?" the genuine act of affection offered was quickly denied when you shook your head suddenly, curling further into mingi's chest.

"no! no, i'm so bloated... that can't feel nice for you,"

"baby, what will feel nice is if i can do something to help you. your stomach is beautiful, bloated or not. if you feel comfortable, i'd love to help you," he was always a gentleman, a bubbly, childish, sweet gentleman, and now showed no exception. of course, after some convincing and a lingering kiss pressed against your strained forehead, you gave in to his offer, barely nodding before mingi climbed over your body- he didn't want you to move, even though that would've been easier. now, his chest lay flat against your back, arms around your waist to knead softly at your stomach. you mewled, releasing the breath you held as his palms provided the gentlest amount of pressure to your pained tummy.

finally, you were able to relax, body sinking back against his own completely. you were at his mercy, mind rendered numb and empty of all thought. and thats why when your ass pressed up against his cock, you gasped softly.

"i know it hurts, baby..." poor mingi sounded so clueless, still stroking his hands in circles over your stomach as you tried your hardest to not think about it. it wasn't so much arousing as it was distracting, and soon you found yourself shuffling your ass against him, only trying to get comfortable with the sensation of his cock against you in such a domestic way.

he wished that your actions didn't affect him in this way. you were exhausted, hurting, and you sought care and attention. but how could mingi stay so focused when you just didn't keep still? the motion provided enough arousal to him that his cock began to harden under your influence. he gulped, slowly edging his hips from you, before you whined out at the lack of contact.

"but baby-"

"min~ you're warm, and you're moving your warmth away from me," as to not draw suspicion, mingi swallowed roughly and just hoped that somehow you wouldn't notice; oh did you notice, alright.

you couldn't say or do much when your boyfriend's hardened cock pressed at your backside, but when your cramps became overwritten with the sensation of arousal, your eyes glimmered with opportunity. maybe you couldn't get the pain to go away, but you could definitely use a distraction...

perhaps it was mean of you to begin grinding your ass back against mingi's erection, but how else could you prove you were okay? You knew he wouldn't take your word for it...

he hissed, sliding a hand down to grip your hip firmly in place and whisper in your ear: "(y/n), baby, not now... Not when you're like this,"

"i need the distraction, min. it helps my stomach,"

"a hot water bottle would help your stomach; i'll go get one. it can warm you up-"

as he was mumbling his words and beginning to move, you had flipped your body around as quick as you could in your position, gazing up into his hooded eyes. yours were glossed over, wide, reflecting need in their surface, and mingi couldn't resist you like that- you knew so.

"i want you to warm me up, you do it so much better. please, i want you," you moaned quietly, throwing your arms loosely around the man's shoulders as you willed him to cave in. his hands instinctively held your back, warm palms against your skin, and you sighed happily. the timid smile, the bliss that pooled in your eyes, the weight of your relaxed frame against his at the intimate touch all swayed mingi in your favour. who was he kidding? he wanted you too, and the raging boner pressing at your core was more than enough of a clue. when you settled into his lap once more, tugging lightly on the red hair at the nape of his neck, that's when mingi's self-restraint snapped, the final thread of his composure frayed, before his lips captured yours in a firm kiss.

your bodies melted under each other's influence, weak to the gasps and needy whines that escaped your mouths. each of you swallowed the sounds, hands greedily roaming each other's nude bodies. mingi cupped one of your breasts, fingertips toying with your nipple and pinching a mewl from you. when mingi separated his lips from yours, he pressed your foreheads together. a moment was spent exchanging deep, passionate gazes, breath mingling as the two of you panted lightly.

"are you absolutely sure you're okay with this, baby?" the man asked once more. it was endearing and polite, of course it was, but you wanted him now, and asking only meant you had to wait longer. you smirked, rolling your eyes playfully before tugging him forward into another kiss. now, your core began to grind down over his bare cock. neither of you could suppress the moans that bubbled from your throats as mingi's cock glided between your folds, his tip prodding at your clit with every movement. his face contorted into an expression of strained pleasure, eyes narrowed and teeth grit together as his neediness became somewhat painful. this is why you loved being on top, slightly in control of the pace, to witness the man's face and the way its features changed under the influence of your body, and now was no exception.

"you're- hmph... you're way too pleased with yourself considering i'm not even inside of you yet," mingi was referring to the smirk that had seared itself into your face. you bit your lip back in response to prevent said grin from curling up into a full-blown smile, rocking your hips slower now over his lap.

"i like your reactions, that's why," you smiled, but the cockiness soon crumbled once your boyfriend spread one of his large hands across the small of your back and pulled you closer before proceeding to flip you two over. now, you were beneath him, body cradled by the mattress, bedsheets and blankets. your lips collided in another breathless kiss, mingi's travelling down your body before wrapping his tongue around one of your nipples. your expression faltered, mouth agape and eyes rolled back as you threw your fingers into the man's hair. hopelessly, you tugged him forward, moaning profusely at the feeling- mingi always knew your nipples were sensitive, and adored the reactions he could get from stimulating them alone. One day, he'd try and see how much of a mess he could make of you by toying with nothing but your breasts, but right now, your core sliding over his cock wasn't something he couldn't wait for. still, mingi couldn't resist the cheeky comment that followed once his lips detached from your nipple with an audible pop.

"i like your reactions, too,"

you rolled your eyes at the shit-eating grin he sent you, giggling when he leant back down for another kiss, one that quickly led to the both of you swallowing each other's moans. you couldn't take much more teasing, pulling away with a gasp as you spewed your words.

"min, baby, please.. n-no more teasing. i need you, now. fuck me, please," it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the way your clit throbbed as your hips ground up around your boyfriend's cock. it had become something your body did without command, out of control, and that's exactly what you felt- you could no longer dictate your actions as you gripped the base of mingi's aching cock and began to push the length inside of yourself, jaw falling slack when you moaned at the stretch. "f-fuck, (y/n), you didn't warn me-"

"didn't want to- mhm! Just wanted you to fuck me."

part of you, admittedly, was scared of losing focus, of getting distracted and feeling that familiar cramping sensation in your lower gut, rather than the swirl of arousal you had become so used. to. the last thing mingi wanted to do with you was rush you, aware of your fragile state, but when you dictated the pace, he had no choice but to follow...

a chain of shaky whines rolled off your tongue, and at that point, it was safe to say that your cramps were no longer at the forefront of your mind. now, your body swam in a numbing sea of pleasure, complete with mingi's firm grip on your hips and his mouth latched around your remaining nipple that he made a mental note previously not to neglect. you couldn't be anymore thankful for the fact, either, as you arched your back to receive more of the feeling. he chuckled at the pitiful whine you let out, pulling at his shoulder blades to lessen the already-minimal gap between your slick bodies.

"move, please babe. y-you know i can't handle this," you were such a helpless sight, whimpering as his cock stretched your tight hole beyond what any toy (or man, for that matter) could achieve. and just as you thought he couldn't lodge himself any deeper inside of you, mingi's hips became flush against your own, breathy exclamations of satisfaction shared between you both. your thighs trembled as his palms wrapped around the circumference of the soft muscle, nimble fingers squeezing and moulding the skin as he liked, adoring the way your body behaved for him. when he arched his neck up, mingi's hooded eyes met your own, lids heavy with arousal and a peaceful kind of neediness, an accepting gaze that had your heart catching in your throat- the words 'i love you' stuck as your tongue swirled around itself and became trapped between your teeth when the man rocked his hips back and forth slowly. you cursed your boyfriend's name, your tiny hands shaky as they tugged mingi's hair and pulled his body forward with all their might- you were already shaky prior due to the pain, and your breathing had been laboured since your body cramped and convulsed. his lips crashed into yours before he picked up the pace, thrusts more intent and fluid. soon, you two had established a smooth, slow, deep rhythm that pricked goosebumps all over your body and rendered you both breathless.

"mhm! god, b-baby, feels so good." you whined, allowing your body every sensitive reaction- including when your eyes rolled to the back of your skull. hot pleasure seared through you, mingi's hands spreading even more heat wherever he dragged his palms. His fingers squeezed around your thighs, past your hips until they rested on your stomach, the place that started all of this. mingi slowed his pace to focus more on rubbing steady circles against your tummy, satisfied when he heard your moans simmer to peaceful hums. you adored how careful he was with you, part of that due to how much bigger his body was than yours. he wished to wrap his limbs around your body and keep you sheltered from everything sometimes because you really were just that small pressed up against him. his hand alone completely covered your stomach, fingertips grazing beneath your breasts, and he wished to savour the sight of you so meek and reliant on him to feel better. that's all mingi ever wanted to do- absolutely spoil you rotten, because you were his princess, his one treasure. every stroke of his cock inside of you came with an insatiable need to pull as much pleasure from you as he could, it became his mission, his one true focus. and so, it came as shock to you when mingi slid his hand between your bodies and twisted his wrist in an awkward position, just to make sure he could rub circles against your clit.

his actions were met with moans and whines from you, of which mingi bent forward to swallow each and every one before pressing his lips to yours feverishly, failing to conceal just how enamoured he was with you.

"fuck, baby-"

"i love you, (y/n). fucking hell i can't ever get enough of you" mingi cut you off with a groan, following his declaration of love with the increased pace of his hips slapping against your own. your legs began to shake, an action of which you tried to warn mingi was approaching as your orgasm bubbled in your stomach. his fingers pressed firmer against your clit and your back arched, eyes rolling to the back of your head whilst chanting mingi's name like a prayer as his thrusts brought you to heaven. every moment was heavenly with him, every smile his lips curved into, every laugh and giggle his chest shook with, every single thing about mingi was complete perfection, right down to the way he held your shaking body as you came. Like he did with everything, mingi praised you, rubbing his large hands over your body and holding your tiny ones in his own. he didn't even think about his own orgasm until it became impossible to ignore, spurred on by your desperate whines and tightened core as you clamped down around his cock. he didn't even have the time to pull out (not that you were letting him by the feel of things) before mingi was nudging his face against your neck and moaning against your skin, filling your aching, exhausted body with his warm cum. the sensation was just enough to completely, finally soothe you, melting back into the bed with your boyfriend rolling down into the space beside you.

he pressed kisses against your sweat-slick skin, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you into his chest.

"how are you feeling, baby?" mingi was adorably breathless, eyes covered by his dampened red hair, of which you pushed aside to press a kiss to his forehead.

"mh, much warmer now, thank you,"

tysm for reading! <3 tags below :)

#fanfic #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez au #ateez smut #atz #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #hongjoong smut #seonghowa smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #san smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #jongho smut #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung

[osleeplessflowero]

Part 2 to Scares And A Sudden Friendship! - Reader goes by They/Them as always. - Bravery soul! 🧡 - Content Warning: Swearing - Horror goes by Sans because this is a Horrortale exclusive timeline. - Recommended to have context from the previous oneshot for this one! - posting while it's raining..hopefully it goes through-

You enter your apartment, tossing your costume aside the moment you enter your room and changing into some comfy pajamas. Looking through some albums, you put one of your favorite CDs into a small radio and let the music play in the background.

..You're not happy. But you also had a lot of fun with..what was his name again?

You hold up your phone, looking at the newly added contact.

'sans' is what it reads. Right, "Sans". Sans the skeleton. The skeleton who helped you scare the shit out of your shitty boyfriend..priceless.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a reply from your soon-to-be-ex. With a deep breath, you look at his message.

[him] (what do u wanna talk abt)>

[you] (you)>

[him] (tf did i do)>

There's a long conversation between you..his messages making you angrier and angrier until you abruptly break up with him, blocking him immediately after.

You don't realize you're crying until you see your teardrops hit the phone, hurriedly wiping them off to avoid possible water damage. You glare at your ex's name. FUCK him. And all of his friends he'd rather spend time with.

You let out a sigh. This might be the worst Halloween you've ever had..

You hear a ding from your phone, looking back down to see a new message, tapping it.

[sans] (heya)> (get home safe?)>

You can't help but smile a little, leaning back and replying.

[you] (yup)> (just dumped him, feelin like shit)>

[sans] (well we all gotta feel like shit at some point)> (its a part of life)>

[you] (thats true)

He sends you some random memes he had saved in his phone from someone he knows, letting you get some laughs.

[you] (so are we still up for getting coffee tomorrow??)>

[sans] (yeah if you wanna)>

[you] (hell yeah i wanna)> (this'll be fun)> (i wanna know more about you mr. skeleton)>

[sans] (mr. skeleton? cmon you can make a better nickname than that)>

[you] (gotta get to know you better first!)>

[sans] (fair enough)> (it's pretty lafe you should be going to sleep rn)> (*late)> (big hands)>

You let out a snicker.

[you] (yeah but i don't really wanna sleep)>

[sans] (if you sleep now you can wake up on time to go get coffee tomorrow)>

[you] (hmmm)> (fair enough- wait what time should we go? and the place??)>

[sans] (i usually wake up late so how does 12 sound? we can just go to that little coffee shop around the corner from the haunted house)>

[you] (perfect i'll see you then :])>

You pass out cold the moment your head hits your pillow, exhausted from the night's events.

Morning soon arrives, the sun rising as you do. You bury your face in your pillow before your alarm abruptly goes off, forgetting why you set it and frowning. ..Before you suddenly remember, jumping up in a tired daze. You rub the sleepiness away from your eyes with your hands, standing up and going to make some of your favorite breakfast.

Your morning routine goes as it usually does, you then approach your closet to figure out just what to wear. It should be something casual, yet warm..you look through your selection, picking out something that feels perfect, looking in a mirror and making sure nothing is out of place.

TIme to go! You rush outside, grabbing your bag on the way out and holding up your phone.

[you] (omw!)>

[sans] ( 👍)>

A cold breeze blows through the air, moving your clothes a little with it. You come to a stop as you reach the coffee shop, looking around for a particular skeleton and running up to him with a wave.

"Hey, there you are! Sorry if I'm late." You smile sheepishly, resting your arms at your sides. The skeleton simply sends a smile your way, shoving his hands in his now clean jacket's pockets.

"nah, you're early. i just got here myself." He shrugs a little.

"Sweet, looks like we're right on time then, huh?" You smile, holding open the door for him. He promptly replies with a "thanks", before walking in and holding the door so it doesn't shut on you.

You both walk over to one of the booths in the back at Sans' suggestion, sitting by the window across from one another. The sounds of cups clinking and very few people talking fills the air, a comforting sound. You can faintly smell the coffee beans in the back, taking a deep breath to take in the scent.

Sans taps his fingers against the table in a rhythmic pattern, his bright red eyelight turning from you, to the window, then back to you.

You sit your bag to your left, resting your elbows on the table and putting your head between your hands.

"So, Mr. Sans..consider this an interview of sorts."

"yikes, haven't had one of those in a hot minute." He puts his other arm's elbow on the table, resting his cheekbone in his palm to somewhat match you. "shoot."

"Alright- first off...why a haunted house?" You raises a brow, genuinely curious why he chose to work there.

"well, you tend to get used to spookin' people when you're a monster that looks like i do. so, why not take advantage of it? maybe get paid in the process. sounds pretty good to me. plus it can be pretty funny if you catch the right person off guard. just look what happened last night."

"Yeah..people shouldn't judge you based on how you look, though. At least, that's what I think."

"weren't you scared too?" He raises a browbone.

"Well, not as much as I could've been. But I've always been like that. Not a lot of things can scare me. Stumbling across you was more fun than scary. 'What will this actor do?', y'know?"

"huh..interestin'. would've assumed based on, ..well..you know. i tend to come across as big 'n scary."

"Not to me." You smile. His eyelight shrinks a little in its socket, before returning to its usual burning state as he smiles.

"Okay, your turn. You wanna ask me anything?" "why'd you end up with that scaredy cat back there? lemme know if that's too personal. i can change it." "No, it's fine," You sigh, lowering your hands so now your arms are fully on the table. "I dunno. We were fine at first, it seemed like he genuinely liked me back..but then he just grew really distant and ignored me a bunch." "well, it's a good thing you're not stickin' with somebody that's wastin' your time, huh?" "Yeah.."

A waitress walks over cheerfully, asking both of you what kind of coffee you'd like. You order your favorite, Sans shrinks down a little in his seat before replying with "black". She walks off, and he visibly relaxes.

"I'm..guessing you're not much of a people person, huh?"

"absolutely not. at least when i'm actin' i don't have to worry about talkin'. i just.. chase."

"I get that. I'm not the best with people myself. ..That's something we have in common." You smile.

"i guess it is, huh?"

A moment passes of comfortable silence between you. The waitress returns with your cups, sitting them down and waving goodbye before walking back over behind the counter.

"So..you have any family here?"

That question piques his interest, a fond smile crossing his face.

"yeah..my brother, papyrus. we're livin' together up here. he's a lot more..energetic than i am. kinda loud since his hearin's not all there. i think he'd like you."

"Really?"

"he's the kind of guy to wanna make friends with everybody, no matter who it is. he always.. sees the good in people." He looks down at the table, his smile still ever present. You can't help but smile too, about the fond way he speaks of him. They must be very close..you'd like to meet Papyrus sometime, if given the chance.

Maybe..

"You think I could meet him sometime? I-If that's too forward, I totally understand, of cour-" "..yeah. i'm sure he'd like to meet a new pal." "A..new pal?"

He nods. Your smile shifts into a grin.

"I'd absolutely like to be pals." "then i guess what's what we are, huh?" "Yeah..I like the sound of that."

The two of you finish off your drinks while you shoot more questions back and forth then exit the coffee shop, bidding each other goodbye. You can't help but feel a little pep in your step as you make your way back home, sitting on your couch and watching one of your favorite childhood movies.

Part 3 coming soon! Gotta love multi-parters-

#horror sans x reader #horror sans #genderless reader #continuation of the halloween oneshot #horrortale sans

[ddejavvu]

ok so now im stuck on the whole stepdad!james maybe dark ask i jsut send in, but obviously this james is the tried and true, big beefy rugby lad, gentle giant, that type.

but you just know that the lads take the PISS outta him, like he doesn’t introduce ur mom as “the missus”, or anything endearing, but once the boys find out that ur sorta kinda his step daughter?? ohh the porn jokes come flooding in.

want her to call u daddy james? oh stepdad im stuck over the couch again!!

and james can’t help but flush red cus he doesn’t really like ur mom like that, but he wants to be around you cus ur pretty and nice (not to mention ur a lot closer in age), and then. oh then. u get an almost-boyfriend.

a guy who sorta tries asking you on a date so u sorta try and go, but james is a fuckin baby about it once he finds out. all petulant and flushed cheeks bc he CANT say anything to u bc he’s not an official authority figure in ur life, or a potential romantic interest cus he hasn’t said so, so he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place so he tries to put issues in place like forgetting to dry ur date dress, or making ur favourite meal bc oh bug im so sorry i totally forgot ur going out tonight!! :((

i just want beefy james potter and his big fat fucking tits at this point that’s so cringe but MY GOD 🙏🙏

this post is 18+ (and so are its characters) and dark, minors dni.

THIS IS SO SPECIAL TO ME :')) james is already a certified lover boy but when he can't express that whenever he wants to?? totally whipped!! he's constantly calling you honey or love or sweetheart and when his friends realize that he doesn't call your mom any of that shit they lay into him so hard </33 sirius sends him porn links that he passes on his way to whatever he's looking for that are labeled stepdad or stepdaughter something along those lines, along with teasing remarks like 'this kinda looks like your kitchen. been up to anything fun with y/n?' or 'if you're looking for any ideas ;)'

when.. when you tell him you're going out. oh my god. he doesn't know what to say!! he can't stop you, and if he tattles on you to your mom she won't stop you, because what reason would she have? so he just nods all stiff and tells you he's happy for you. he bolts from the room as soon as he can, and you think it's kinda weird/mean but he seems fine later so you brush it off!! but the reason that he's fine is that he's just schemed with sirius and remus to get you to stay home for the date and he's confident now that you won't go </3

you're so right he does bait you with your favorite meal.. he calls you downstairs to ask you to taste the sauce for him and you come down in a full face of makeup!! he tells you that you look so pretty, but asks what it's for. you're like james.. my date?? and he goes ohhh, honey i forgot! i made your favorite :( i thought we could have a movie night!! your mom's at work :') and you feel sosososo bad bc he seems so hopeful about it and you don't want him to think that you don't like him!! but you're still planning on this date, so you tell him you'll eat light and come home early.

not good enough for him!! he just smiles and nods and tells you your dress is fresh out of the dryer, but ohhh it shrunk :( it's too tight now!! he's so sorry for ruining it, he must have put it on the wrong setting :( he'll take you to the mall tomorrow to replace it!! and you're pretty discouraged now, your outfit is ruined, you feel guilty for leaving, so you just raincheck the guy :( you feel super bad, especially because he thinks you're just getting cold feet, and snaps at you that he wouldn't have enjoyed your company anyways. this means you're sad and feeling guilty, and james gets to croon over how mean he was and how sweet you are for still feeling bad and he wraps you up in his big strong arms beside the stove and lets you bury your face in his big broad chest and he coddles you for as long as you’ll let him :’) he shovels your comfort meal into your mouth and puts on your favorite movie and snuggles up under blankets with you and at the end of the night you end up snoozing on his shoulder while the credits roll :’) he carries you up to your bed and tucks you all snug under your covers and he can’t stop himself from kissing your forehead :’)) your face is warm and flushed and he yearns to kiss your lips but he tears himself away and leaves you there with a promise to himself that he’ll treat you better than anyone else because it’s what you deserve :’)

#dark mei #stepdad!james #James potter #James potter x reader #James potter fanfiction #James potter oneshot #James potter imagine #James potter headcanons #James potter au

[moony-2001]

Lore Olympus ep. 252 critique

Before all you stans get mad I generally thought this episode was pretty okay. But maybe that’s because not a whole lot happened.

Cassandra

So going in the order of events, first up is our favorite gal Cassandra.

Gotta say, already like her loads.

I don’t have a whole lot to say about her general existence, beyond the fact that it’s stupid that Apollo is using her as a walking incognito tab. My main criticism more lies around the idea of when did Apollo even meet her? He obviously couldn’t have met her during the time skip because there were no interactions allowed between realms during that time and he was kicking it in Olympus.

We also have no indication of when he actually met her post-punishment. There’s no definitive timeline for how far we are post-time skip, but by my estimation, we can’t be more than a month past when the embargo officially lifted. Idk I can already smell the mess that is this storyline a mile away.

The SA plot line

Holy fuck. I don’t exactly know what the hell Rachel is exactly trying to achieve with the SA plot line but I can tell you that the handling of it has been piss poor.

Uhhh... this is great and all except for the fact that Persephone never thought this. There is not one shred of evidence that Persephone ever liked or actually found Apollo handsome. Not even in the very early chapters. She didn't even say that he made her feel special. She said that she liked the way Hades made her feel. Hades made her feel special by grooming her but that's a whole-ass post on its own.

Even after her assault, she continued to express at minimum a clear discomfort for him in front of others and at maximum immense hatred for him when by herself or with only him. And now suddenly Rachel wants to flip the script? Why? What purpose would that serve? Why is she suddenly backpedaling on a plotline that was established within the first 25 episodes/the second day Persephone is on Olympus? The SA plotline is the longest-running and the "big bad" that has yet to be resolved. But now it only pops up when the story needs a little conflict or an extra boost to drive it forward. Plus now she wants to portray Apollo as this misunderstood ex-love interest/boyfriend with whom the audience is supposed to sympathize? It's disgusting. @genericpuff who I really need to stop tagging in these posts I'm so sorry made an excellent essay about how Rachel is burying the SA plot line that basically takes what I've said above and greatly expands it. Go read it, they made a lot of excellent points.

Melinoe

Ah yes. The mystery deity that was really Hades’ inner child/actual child all along!

So I actually had a conversation with another LO critic about how weird I thought this "inner child -> actual canonical child" pipeline was. Now, granted, I could be reading into this way too much but when I first read this, I honestly thought it was some kind of weird/unintentional representation of parents projecting their trauma onto their children.

We've seen this little ghost buddy in past chapters and a lot of people (myself included) thought that our ghost buddy was a representation of Hades' inner child. A little Hades if you will. And it was portrayed that way. We often saw our little ghost buddy/little Hades who was extremely traumatized by Hades' past experiences. The part of Hades that just can't let go despite what he may claim about "moving on" or "being better". But if this little ghost/Hades is actually their kid Melinoe, that means they saw everything that Hades went through. All his traumas, all his struggles. Everything. And now also with Persephone and her little jaunt through the mind-scape and the shit she saw. So now we have to recontextualize all of those scenes where Hades interacts with this being and tbh the scenes kind of become very ick? This is such a strange direction to take this particular storyline. Something about it just rubs me the wrong way and I don't know if it's my above complaint or something else.

But yeah. Pretty tame in comparison to some of my past posts and posts that will come. Until the next chapter and/or my next post.

#anti lore olympus #lore olympus #anti lo persephone #anti lo #lore olympus critical #lo criticism #lo critic #lo critical #lo hate #unpopular lo #unpopular lore olympus

[korkorali]

I have Feelings™️ about Beakley

She’s a grandmother she’s a spy she’s an agent she’s a director she loves Webby she’s the worst guardian in the manor she judges everyone she’s extremely good at taking care of kids she’s terrible with children she lies like its second nature she’s barely remorseful for her actions she feels terrible about everything she’s done she’s traumatized she’s the most well-adjusted person in the room she’s one wrong move away from blowing up she’s calm and collected but most importantly she’s a hypocrite.

She’s the biggest hypocrite in the mansion and I absolutely love her for it.

She judges everyone. If you exist in her line of sight, chances are she’s going to look at you and think ‘I could probably do X better than you’ to herself. Especially when it comes to parenting.

And here’s the kicker- she’s wrong. She’s so wrong about that. Without a doubt, she wins the ‘worst of the mansion’s parental figures’ trophy by a landslide. She did terribly by Webby.

She kept her in the manor, alone, and trained her to defend herself from much too early an age. She told her not to bother Scrooge, the only other person in their home, which means that the only person Webby every really had was her.

I mean this woman was ready to straight up kick her ass on the roof of the manor for saying ‘hey maybe traumatizing Huey and Dewey isn’t the best form of training’

This woman, on multiple occasions, looked Webby right in the eyes and lied to her without even thinking- twice! And that’s after knowing that Webby hates being lied to!

She’s had quite her fair share of fuckups when it comes to parenting, and yet she still freely judges Scrooge, Donald, and Della whenever they try to parent.

She’s one of the biggest hypocrites in the show.

And the thing is, it makes sense.

All of her actions so much sense, even the judgement.

She’s a thoroughly traumatized secret agent who’s probably never opened up about herself to anyone (well, maybe Scrooge, but that’s another post for another day), found a child kept in one of their secret bases, and made the impossible choice to abandon her mission (her entire life) to go into hiding and keep the child safe.

She used to be a secret agent, so of course her modus operandi is to lie. Of course she keeps her cards close to her chest (even when nobody else is playing), of course she waits to reveal anything until she’s deemed it absolutely necessary to do so.

She essentially kidnapped Webby, the top-secret project of an evil organization. Of course she never let her leave the mansion (or at least, go anywhere besides the mansion and the Money Bin, because she’s been there before), she had every reason to believe that their agents may one day show up to find and take her away.

Of course she trained Webby relentlessly, of course she reacted so harshly to the idea of not training the boys in the same way. In order to survive, she was treated as a soldier instead of a person, after all. So in order for them to survive, she’s got to treat them like soldiers too.

Of course she judges everyone around her and refuses to admit when she’s wrong, she’s been through hellish experience after hellish experience, took over as director for SHUSH after the previous director was kidnapped by FOWL. She’s learned to hide her weaknesses, bury them so deep that even she wouldn’t be able to find them if she tried. She’s had to lead others, monitor agents, make absolutely sure that no information leaked which meant running the tightest shop possible. After doing that for so long, seeing others not do that is grating (what do you mean, other people got to be safe? What do you mean, nobody else has dealt with the things she has? What do you mean, she doesn’t have to treat everything like a secret war is brewing just under the surface? Preposterous).

She’s been through more than anyone else will ever know, more than she’ll ever say, and she refuses to admit that it’s caused her harm. She refuses to believe that what happened to her may have been wrong. That it shouldn’t have happened at all (It ended up giving her Webby. How could anything that gave her Webby be wrong?)

She’s a bitch and an asshole and a jerk and a hypocrite and a badass super spy and a housekeeper and a grandmother and anything she needs to be to survive and is maybe just starting to allow herself to live.

But there is one thing she most certainly is not:

A secretary

#she’s great #I love how fucked up she is #and how little she’s willing to admit it #because she’d never admit to being as fucked up as everyone else in the family #it’d kill her #ducktales #dt17 #mrs beakley #bentina beakley #the reason she clashes (slightly) with della is because both of them have ‘I’m The Main Character’ energy #but where beakley is the main character of a long and detailed story-driven singleplayer #della is the main character of an mmo #so della never actually realizes that they have beef because she’s perfectly happy with the idea of there being multiple main characters #but beakley has to adjust to this new development #and she hates adjusting to new things

[philliam-writes]

you are in the earth of me [masterlist]

When Kipps asks you to help out on a case, you think nothing of it until you get into a mystery with stakes so high you should have maybe become an acrobat instead of psychic agent.

Working with the notorious Lockwood & Co. agency is the last on your list of unexpected problems, especially because growing familiar with every one of its agents opens the door to truths you've long buried—even the one to your past you've locked away behind high-security steel doors with the intention to never cross its threshold.

Content (Warnings): canon typical violence & horror, angst, loss of family member, grief and loss, slight ptsd, slow burn, rivals to lovers, platonic lockwood & co/Reader, childhood friends! Kipps & Reader, found family, mature language, aged up characters (everybody is in their early 20s; Kipps is mid-20s)

◘ 01: let the dead hollers hum

• words: 5.1k • summary: “Ton—Anfonie ‘Ockwoo’.” You nod, and finally swallow your mouthful of food. “I’ve heard things about you.” Lockwood’s dark eyes slide over to Kipps for a second, glinting like a knife drawn out of its sheath. He gives you a nice, easy smile. “Only good things, I presume?” You feel your face scrunch up at the memory of Kipps’s curses, threats and very imaginative ways of what he’d do with his rapier and a very specific part of Lockwood’s body. “Yeah, uhm … things.”

◘ 02: for whom the bell tolls

• words: 7.3k • summary: Your eyes pop open. Lockwood is standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the banister with his arms crossed, an amused look on his face. All tousled dark hair and brown eyes as sharp as glass, he is as tall as Kipps, perhaps taller, and lankier. But their demeanours are quite different. Where Kipps is calm and steady like stone, reliable like the earth that is always solid under your feet, Lockwood seems striking like a flash of bright lightning—quick-witted and assured in the path he carves as though the mere thought of something standing in his way is so far-off that he just barrels ahead with no regard of what he sets ablaze.

◘ 03: wring those embers

• words: 4.3k • summary: A hand catches your wrist. Warm fingers brush against the slip of skin where your glove ends, sending an electrifying shock up your arm. You start. Lockwood lets go and pulls back. “Like it or not, we are in this together,” he says quietly. His voice drops to a low tremble, gaining a quality that feels like a solid caress on your skin. Heat crawls up your neck. “And as with any proper team, there are no secrets, and no holding back valuable information. Deal?”

◘ 04: there's a kind of calling

• words: 4.6k • summary: Responsibility. Lucrative agent. Resource. It seems everyone is happy to fit your whole existence into one word; put you inside a cardboard box, slap a postage stamp on your forehead as though you’re some ghastly parcel to be shipped off when taking up too much space; being too inconvenient. Looks like even Lockwood and Co. is no different from the other agencies, a sobering revelation that is surprisingly disappointing.

If you would like to join the taglist, just let me know! Also posted on Ao3. If you enjoy it, I'll give you tons of kisses for some coffee!

#lockwood show #lockwood books #lockwood & co #l&c #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood x y/n #lockwood netflix #lockwood and co reader #reader insert #lockwood reader insert #l&c reader insert #phill.l&c #best friends reader and kipps

[stevenbasic]

GITJ Post 349: That was Then, This is Now, p1

“Mmmmph! M-Morgan!! Pl-please!” I sputtered, head buried deep in the big bosom of my new Hungarian APRN. My arms were straightened stock-stiff at my sides.

“Oh, Dr. J, do the relax!” the enormous blond woman laughed, mirth jiggling through her mighty chest as she hugged me tightly. She nearly had me pulled off my feet as I stood there in my office that Monday morning, her strong arms encircling my head, shoulders and upper back. I’d been waiting for my coff-…my m-…my warm morning beverage and the meeting Melissa had wanted to have but had been summarily assaulted - this counted as the twelfth one - by the “Good Morning Hugs” of my staff as they’d come one-by-one to greet me. New office policy, it had been announced, I guess: Dr. J gets a hug every morning, from everyone. 

Julia had been here with hugs, Bobbi and Brittni and Bianca and Bessie as well, all thanking me for such a fun weekend and being so cool and nice to them on Instagram. Wait what? Shanette had come early and lingered long, feeling especially soft and had purred motherly greetings. Katarina had, with a peculiar giggle, offered to fill my mug if I’d been waiting too long for Melissa to appear with my warm milk. Josie didn’t stop at a hug and gave me kisses, while Randi and Katie had each started flat-out making out with me. Angie nearly had me out of my pants and it was only Aubrey showing up for her hug that saved me from an early-morning, non-consensual handjob. Lakshmi had left just a few minutes ago, after helping me clean the lipstick of all these other from my face and finally showing me on her phone what all the girls is had been mysteriously hinting at and talking about: the Instagram posts made to my account after my own phone had been hijacked on Saturday night, before its demise at the bottom of Melissa’s pool. Good god! I remembered so little of the weekend, had I really been a part of all this…this…debauchery?

What a way to start a week!

“I hear you have the exciting weekend,” Morgan was now purring to me, her basso profundo rumbling through her chest as she held me captive at her monumental breast. “Morgan sorry she not there, she the busy. But happy you have the good time. Many orgasm, I can know!” 

At that, she released my face from the depths of her bosom and - god help me - held me out at arms reach. My feet were six inches off the floor! My mouth gaped: Morgan was huge! Enormous! Maybe not quite as tall as Melissa but probably outweighing her by sixty pounds, at least. Jesus Christ the size of her! Yes, whatever my mystery affliction was had been reducing my stature (I really have to get this checked out…) and changing my perspective, and I knew Morgan was a big lady, but - holy crap! What had happened to her?!? I’d seen her just last Friday, working with patients, and she was nowhere near this size, was she?? She was a house! Thick curves threatened to burst forth from her stretchy pants and overmatched, overstretched blouse whose buttons seemed ready to -

“Haha button go pop,” she laughed as - yes - the top button of her blouse flew past my face.

My eyes just goggled as her cleavage bulged forth and then, slowly, she began to lift me up, up, up until we were eye level. Good god this woman wasn’t only huge, but hugely strong!

“Because you, the breasts of me are so bigger now,” she said, cryptically, “Tell me, what the happen? What you do on the weekend?”

Oh my god what did happen this weekend?

I remember, of course, getting in a little late this Monday morning with Melissa driving me to work. I’d stayed the night, again, the third in a row at her place. She’d helped me get ready and had clothes for me - these new, XXS unisex scrubs she’d found at the mall. I normally didn’t like wearing scrubs at the office as it made me look, well…like the rest of the staff, the medical assistants. But today I had little choice. So while this morning’s memories were clear as day, the day before, however, was a little fuzzier. Though with a little effort I pretty much recalled the whole thing.

“Um,” I told Morgan, as she held me aloft like a rag doll, “M-Melissa and I just sort of relaxed yesterday…”

Of the events of the weekend, Sunday afternoon’s were clearest in my mind. It had turned out to be a lazy day of napping in and out and cuddling on the couch. Melissa spent it pampering me, barely letting me lift a finger, keeping me couchbound in her arms, or pinned underneath her, or with her head in my lap. She’d apparently wanted to spend most of the day in penis worship, and wanted me also adulating her breasts. It was Sunday, after all. Time for church. And so we honored the occasion with either me sucking on her or by her sucking on me ‘like a piece of candy’, tending to the every whim of the insatiable beast between my legs, barely letting it leave her mouth for hours on end. I don’t know how many times her skilled lips, tongue and throat had brought me to climax there on the couch - it was a lot. But it was right before the dinner of Mac n Cheese she’d made for me that I finally had to stop her. I was sore, I was actually really sore, my balls tender and shaft raw from so much overuse this weekend, a sex marathon that did a number on my privates. She’d cooed and clucked in amused pity, offering ointments and creams 'to make it all better', but they only served to get me ready for another round in her mouth or tender grip. It was finally with a laying-on-of-hands, a strange cooling sensation that her palms brought my groin with no liniments or salves, that in the end miraculously healed my pain. Had she done something like that before? On…Saturday night, to a bruise on my neck? I was a little weirded out, as that moment brought back flashes of other memories. Was I just imagining some of these things? I remember her, and the other girls doing…stuff. Like, I knew Melissa was really strong, but there was no way she used her breath to blow me across the pool, was there?

“I heard you almost the drownded,” Morgan said, watching my face as I continued to try to recall the weekend. 

“Who? Me? Oh, um…”

Yes, I had woken Sunday morning and found my busted phone. Did I get it from the bottom of the pool? Or was that Melissa? Wait, did she actually save me from, like, almost drowning? I shivered, recalling it now. Yes, I felt it again - the fear, the near-death experience at the bottom of the deep-end and then suddenly being safe in her arms. Anyway, I remembered intimacy with Melissa in the pool, in the shower, at breakfast. Jeez we were horndogs!

“...yeah, I uh, had a little accident Sunday morning,” I admitted to Morgan, “but it was a f-fun little party the night before. Too b-bad you couldn’t come.”

Saturday was, for sure, more of a blur. There were girls over at Melissa’s, lots of them. I must have been drinking that afternoon because I barely remember that time at all. Later on into the evening I recall a little more - time in the hot tub? Sushi for dinner was it? A movie, some warm milk? Bedtime was more easy to recollect, with Shanette sharing the bed with Melissa and me for a while. 

“Sound so the fun,” Morgan smiled, the twinkle in her eyes telling me she knew more than she was saying. 

“Yeah,” I agreed. Realizing now why I already felt so exhausted: I had the sex lives of twenty men. Yes, I’d slept like a rock last night, after Melissa had taken me to her bed and put me under by humming sweet lullabies that reverberated throughout my cock, hips and spine to settle in my mind and rock it to sleep. But I felt like I’d need to sleep another week to recover from what I’d been through. I hadn’t even stepped through the door of my apartment upstairs this morning, having come straight into the office, and I was already looking forward to collapsing in my bed tonight. 

But first I needed to get through today. Still held aloft by the shoulders in Morgan’s strong hands, I was reminded of that by a knock on the door. Melissa, maybe, I hoped? We both turned to see who it’d be.

Aubrey, peeking around the doorframe. Back for more hugs? Apparently not. 

“Gianna needs to talk to you,” she said. 

===================================

thanks to RiF for editing help

#growing into the job

[gatheringbones]

genuine question: how do you stand the loneliness? i'm in my mid 20s and ive never been loved in a way that didnt hurt. i dont want to have to run after ppl begging for the smallest scrap of affection anymore but i keep turning up ppl who, even though they are interested in me and seem generally decent, arent ready to lower their walls and let me in, so its either that or nothing, and im so fucking lonely. i try to bury myself in work and going out as much as i can, but sometimes it hits me, and i dont know how to stand it anymore. i just want to be able to be kind to someone and treat them with all the love and affection i have, and not have to guard myself at the same time or be afraid of them or feel like i can never be sure with them. i think you've been lonely like that for a long time, too, and i dont have anyone who understands. i know the only advice you can give is probably "endure and continue to have self respect", but i dont know how to do that without also becoming small, and sad, and worn out from all the loneliness. if there's anything you can think of that helped you get through it, please tell me--i dont want to burden or overwhelm you, but i dont know what to do anymore, and like i said, you seem like you've survived a couple of those sorts of droughts and i dont have anyone else to talk to about this

so on those first few early dates with c when she was either driving an hour up north or I was taking the bus two hours down to see her, I was so rattled by the experience of building intimacy with someone else that I couldn’t really think of what we ought to do with each other on our dates. In the end I decided: we would just do what I ordinarily did to build intimacy with myself, which meant taking lots of long walks all over residential seattle. and I’d been living there for over ten years at that point, getting around either by walking or by bus. before that I’d lived in the sticks. before that I’d lived in the part of the sticks that wasn’t connected to the power grid. my earliest memories are long lonely walks. long lonely walks were my primary coping mechanism for debilitating post traumatic stress and survivor’s guilt. and with c it was wild because. it was exactly like going on these walks with myself, only I was more of myself and these walks were more of what they were. what’s more the internal map of the city I had built in my feet over a decade was suddenly of use. all of the time and neurons I had put into building it were relevant to the present situation.

i packed a backpack once. water and a cheeseboard with a little cheese knife and a can of prosecco and a can of kirin for c and lots of little cheeses and salamis and fruits and veggies and chocolate almonds. And I took c on a long meandering walk that I knew from memory; fremont to the crown hill cemetery to the stairs leading down to golden gardens to the beach at sunset. all places I’d been by myself and taken my friends to before. places I’d taken myself to after packing myself a snack and bringing my journal and quite literally staring across the water at a home that would kill me if I ever returned to it. all that time mattered. the time I had spent in that place making those friendships and mourning that life and building that intimacy with myself and the city mattered.

All the years before— giving, giving, gifts to those who could not care, would not give back. How well we made a feast together. Those years of waste were over.

[mandos-mind-trick]

I'm forever grateful for this fandom

I've been meaning to post something like this for a while. I debated doing it during my next follower milestone (which is very close) but today just felt right.

I've been in a funky place these last few weeks due to a lot of things going on, and this time of year is always a struggle for me. I'm feeling better now, putting aside how today makes me feel, and some things have happened that are going to continue to make things improve slowly but surely.

Today marks twelve years since my mom's death. She died of colon cancer, which the diagnosis for came on rather suddenly and traumatically (that's a story in itself) and she fought for two years before finally succumbing to it on August 14, 2011. I was only 15 when it happened, sitting across the room from her when she took her last breath.

She and I were very close. I was a surprise child, born about 20 years after my siblings so I was raised as an only child. My mom was everything to me since my dad took on the more stereotypical gender role of working all day. (I was close with my dad but not nearly like I was with my mom.) My mom was the glue that held our family together and her getting sick and then ultimately passing really took its toll on my family, and me.

My mom was the one that introduced me to Star Wars. She loved the movies. She went and saw the original trilogy when they came out in theaters, and she instilled that love into my siblings and I. I still remember the day when she finally let me watch The Phantom Menace. I think it sticks out to me because if you had known her, you wouldn't have thought Star Wars would be something she was into. We went and saw the two remaining prequel trilogy movies when they came out in theaters and even the Clone Wars movie (the last one to come out before she got sick) and it was just so special that we shared this thing as a family that we all loved.

I didn't watch Star Wars for ten years after she died.

I rebuked anything and everything that had to do with Star Wars. Every new movie, every new show that came out, all I could think was how much she would have loved it (even the sequel trilogy.) I tried so hard to hate Star Wars because every time I saw anything related to it, it just brought up all those horrible feelings. The pain and grief of losing my mom and in a way I felt like I was betraying her because she'll never get to watch Star Wars again.

I don't really know what changed my mind. I honestly couldn't tell you what switched, what caused me to risk dipping my toe back into the world of Star Wars. Maybe it was all the Baby Yoda memes.

I decided early last year that I was going to watch The Mandalorian. It felt like a safe place to start since there were no emotions attached to it like other things. Also, I've been in love with Pedro since Game of Thrones so that also helped. Watching it, it didn't really feel like Star Wars, but at the same time, it reignited the feelings I used to get watching it with my mom. It took me a long time to watch the first two seasons (the only two that were out a that time) but I'm glad I did it. I went back after I finished those and rewatched the prequels and decided I was going to watch the Clone Wars show. I never really got into it when it was on TV, since I was reaching that stage of pubescence where I was trying to distance myself from anything that felt too childish.

Well, long story short, here I am now. The Mandalorian helped me ease myself back into the world of Star Wars, and the Clone Wars dunked me in head first.

I still think about it, I still think about her when I watch things. It's less painful now and more bittersweet. There's a sense of melancholy underneath everything that just kind of sits there. It never goes away, but sometimes it gets buried enough I don't feel it.

I certainly don't regret coming back to Star Wars. I certainly don't regret getting involved in the fandom side of things. When I decided to watch Star Wars again, I was sort of flailing between fandoms. That awkward spot when you leave one and have to find something else to occupy your every waking (and sleeping) moment. I had just left Marvel due to a toxic friendship (that's a whole other thing in itself) and had briefly jumped into Kpop (I still love Kpop but yikes at the fandom side.) I needed something and Star Wars decided to be that thing.

I didn't plan on getting so involved with the clones. I originally started this blog as a Mando blog (hence the name) and my first Star Wars fics were Mando fics. A lot of them have never seen the light of day and probably won't and that's okay. I hadn't realized, even when I first started getting into the fandom, that there was such a community centered around the clones. I remember when the Clone Wars movie came out, I desperately searched for any fics related to the clones, and there was nothing. So to return fourteen years after searching to find an entire fandom based around the clones...it was a bit unbelievable.

I'm so glad I found this place and eventually became active within it. Y'all have helped me more than I can ever say. I went from debating quitting writing entirely to enjoying it again. I'm writing like I did seven/eight years ago. It no longer feels forced, like I'm forcing myself to write so I don't lose my ability. I like what I'm writing. I'm proud of it. Y'all have helped me get over the impostor syndrome, the hatred I used to have for my writing. I can look at my works and feel confident in them because I know that they're good and I believe that they're good. That confidence and positivity has translated into other areas of my life. I still struggle sometimes, I still question myself, but it's never to the end of "I should quit because this is utter garbage" anymore. (When I say my writing is trash now, it's coming from a joking place, not a serious one.)

A lot of that growth has come from me and the work I've been doing, but you all have had a hand in it. I'm so grateful for all of you, from the silent readers to the dedicated commenters. You've helped me in so many ways. I'm not going anywhere, no matter how bad things get. I may have to take breaks but I'll always come back here because I have a reason to. You're stuck with me for the long haul.

I'm so glad I found my love of Star Wars again. I'm so glad I decided to engage in this fandom space. You're all so special to me and I love each and every one of you and I am so thankful for you. I can only continue to repay you with my writing and my unhinged thots.

#this is really long i don't blame you if you don't want to read #just know i love every single one of you #tw illness and death #also grief

[decepti-thots]

do you wanna talk about your opinions re: Drift in fanfiction, maybe?

I think fanfic Drift is something of a game of fandom telephone tbh. There's a core that has been steadily whittled away by fanon repeating itself enough it seems shallow. The thing is that a lot of IDW1 canon has been subject to this directly, because it wasn't of much interest to folks writing fic while the MTMTE stuff was ongoing, tbh. When Dratchet became a focus in the LL run, stuff got reevaluated about Drift in shipping terms, rather than as character analysis, I think. And it became more abstract through that, and it encouraged Fanon Drift TM.

A lot of fanfic-Drift does not incorporate pre-MTMTE canon for him. This is understandable, because in its own right, that stuff is not very good tbh. But much of what we see now in fandom is... a clear reaction to fanon that sprung up independently, and so is trying to pose a counterpoint to things that only exist in fanon, and the whole thing becomes a mess of self-referential shit if you take it only on its own terms. Drift often only exists as a discussion of those issues in fandom, and where the writer falls on them right now, or when the fic was being written. (Much early Dratchet fic treats Drift as something of an afterthought and Ratchet as the obviously identifiable protagonist, lbr.) Fanfic-Drift is more a litmus test for fanon than a character in his own right, even when he's being written more strongly in canon, I think. He's a cipher. What fandom decided to make that cipher mean is interesting.

I have a whole post I could make about how people's ostensibly anti-regressive takes on 'was Drift a [metaphorical] sex worker, and if so what are our ideas about that' are still fundamentally bound up in anti-SWer ideas and fandom conversations more than canon, because it's all just a reaction to fanon fundamentally based in terrible ideas about what sex work is. (By which I mean I have one post idea I have repeatedly junked bc uh. Don't want to listen to people get shitty about sex work.) But at base level, a lot of fandom's idea of Drift is basically rooted in this idea of the 'theoretically sympathetic addict who has extenuating circumstances we need to articulate for him to be sympathetic, but who is still Abject bc of all that' which I think go so against what we see of him in pre-MTMTE media. Here are some things I think fanfic is bad at engaging with: Drift is an addict, and not the kind of addict a lot of fanfic wants to talk about. Drift is isolated in a way that is not easily explained by people being unfair to him. Drift has strong political opinions that inform both him joining and defecting from the Decepticons. If Drift was a sex worker, metaphorical or otherwise, that is clearly the least important thing in any shame he has.

But more important than those nuances, I think, is that Drift just isn't... allowed to be based on his canon stuff period? It feels honestly slightly irrelevant in the face of just. How much fanon Drift stops being based on extrapolating from his canon actions and starts being a character who exists purely to serve other characters. I think a really interesting take on him needs to do something with that sense he is someone who has deliberately buried what he wants to get what he wants. If you don't go a little meta with it, you get nowhere; and if you do you get something far more interesting than the 'ummmm sad SWer ig, ratchet kindly saves him' idea. See also: his most interesting canon relationship, and I say this as a dratchet shipper, is STILL Drift and Rodimus, because it dictates way more of WHAT THEY DO that Dratchet doesn't manage. Dratchet is great but canonically mostly exists as a culmination to a plot we are filling in behind the scenes; Rodimus and Drift exists as an ongoing discussion outside that. tbh.

tl;dr: sex worker drift would be great if anyone writing fic understood it has Zero to do with canon and approached it as such. it's not canon and people only think it's canon bc of bad opinions about what sex work is. either way i love drift. none of this is coherent sorry. we have discussed some of this before, and i have sharpened my opinions ig?

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 14

Howdy folks <3

Just a few recs this week and several I read a while ago. I read a shit ton this week, but it was all WIPs I've already recommended, so you're only getting a few new ones. I found some really interesting fics this week, though, and I'm very excited to share them with y'all!!

As always The Spreadsheet can be found here and all my other fic recs can be found here. Feel free to tag me in your fics!!

Recs below the Pedro <3

Says It Feels Like Heaven To Him - a Joel one shot by @proxima-writes

Just a really fucking good PWP. Joel comes home from poker night and he's horny and it's really fucking hot.

That Should Be Me - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

Reader is an idiot who hasn't told Din her feelings and gets jelly over Bo Katan and Din is an idiot who also hasn't told reader his feelings and then they bang. Oh and the razor crest is there bc AS IT FUCKING SHOULD BE. Miss her sm. Love an idiots to lovers story <333

Honeyed - a Joel series by @softlyspector

he touch averse reader concept is so so cool, I really like it. I love this cozy little slow burn so much. Watching her build trust with him and the way you hold true to the one step forward two steps back thing you introduce early on ahhhh. I like that she can handle his touch but it still makes her uneasy because it wouldn't feel as significant if he was just the special chosen one she can touch with absolutely no qualms about it. Anyway I hope there's more coming after part 2. I adore this <3

Be good - a Joel one shot by @hier--soir

motherfuckin submissive joel but like you can tell he's not the most submissive person on the planet he just really wants to make you happy and it also obviously gets him off. This is so fucking hot. I love every word of this UGH

The old college try - a Joel one shot by @proxima-writes

OH MY GOD. Slutty frat dad joel!!!! His slutty lil basketball shorts. The beer pong! The keg stand! THE SMUT!!!! This was so fucking hot. I... have no words. Gimme gimme.

With Cherries on Top - a Max Phillips series by @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa

Ok so I adore The Proposal. Great Rom Com. I'm such a slut for fake dating. (Someone should go back and see all things I've said I'm a slut for. It's a lot) Anyway... I really fucking like this. The way the vampire lore is adjusted to fit the story and woven in is excellent. I fucking love the bickering. I'm a banter ass bitch. Max is so good in this. Perfect amount of total douchebag with a heart of gold. Also I want him to bite me...

Decoherence - a Jack (Whiskey) series by @prolix-yuy

I hadn't seen Westworld when I read the first fic in this universe and I still haven't and I still don't care... This is such an insanely good fic. The world building and characterization is just absolutely mindblowing. I adored getting to see reader adjust to life post-Cognitive Dissonance. I'm hoping we get a pretty good insight into what Jack has been doing for the last year. I fucking love that they reunite exactly one year after their previous meeting ugh. I'm so fucking excited for this series, LJ, you fucking genius <3

Sunshine - a Din series by @zialltops (AO3)

This is such a sweet soft tooth rotting ass din fic. It's adorable and I love it <3

----------- oldies but goodies ----------

Soaked - a Javi P one shot by @joelscruff

say it again - a Dieter one shot by @ezrasbirdie

Dieter Bravo x Roommates AU - a Dieter one shot by @fuckyeahdindjarin

The Plan (and all its iterations) - a Dieter one shot by @prolix-yuy

No One Else - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

I'm Coming Back for You, Baby - a Dieter one shot by @jazzelsaur (AO3)

In a perfect world, you love me - a Din Series by @theidiotwhowritesthings

Carry out - a Javi P one shot by @soullumii

The Saint, the sinner, and the devil - a Joel/Javi P Series by @joelsgirl

Pretty When You Cry - a Joel one shot by @violentdelightsandviolentends

Wrap Party - a Dieter one shot by @write-and-buried

You Make Loving Fun - a Frankie Series by @redahlia-writes

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P.S. If you like Andor... @beskarandblasters has been writing excellent Cassian fics recently!!

And to my mutuals who have written new stuff this week that I didn't read I am so sorry... I'll get there eventually!!

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Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller #frankie morales #din djarin #max phillips #dave york #dieter bravo #javi peña #jack daniels #agent whiskey #the mandalorian

[l0calalien-blog]

Stucky

I have to write this somewhere because i rewatched first avenger with my girlfriend last night and i had a thought (one of many) about steve and bucky!

first, i want to say that they are in love with each other. soulmates. i love them. they are my boys. my boyfriends. my everything.

HOWEVER, I believe that bucky is more in love with steve than steve is bucky. hear me out on this one.

1920s-30s ~ back then it was obviously illegal to be gay and would have been seen as something of the 'devils work' and we know that steve is religous as he makes comments on it in the avengers film, this would also make sense for the times. so i believe that steve was probably ignoring his feelings for bucky or telling himself that his feelings were platonic. i think steve also probably didnt believe that he was good enough for anyone, let alone bucky, which could be a reasoning for his blatent uninterest in women bucky tries to set him up with. while i think bucky also had the same feelings when it came to the religous parts of homobophia back then, i believe he had more confidence and felt safe with steve to tell him his feelings were more than platonic. i think bucky told him his feelings and steve softly rejected him saying that "it was wrong but he too loved him".

1940s ~ we learn in shehulk that steve did, infact, loose his virginity to a 'girl' in the early 40s, but steve also says in the first avenger that he never really had time for girls and had never really spoke to one before peggy. this could, could, indicate that bukcy and steve did have a secret relastionship and steve just told everyone that it was a girl??? i think at the point where steves post serium and has now been shown that peggy is clearly into him his whole heart belongs to her (as it would me too). i believe steve is too deep in love with peggy to even notice that bucky (still) has feelings for him, which we can see that bucky is from the way he looks at steve and peggy in first avenger after they return back to camp and also later in the bar. i think bucky the retaliates in fake stright with trying to flirt with peggy, being petty that shes getting all of steves attention.

2010s ~ at this point steves mourned buckys loss and has had time to get through the pain, but he would have also seen that the progression with gay rights had come along way since the 1940s and that it was a lot more acceptable. so when he sees bucky again in winter solidier his whole world shifts- his best friend is alive, peggys out the question, buckys evil, buckys beautiful (all things he must have been thinking at the time...)- after bucky and steve fight in winter solider and bucky saves steve shows steve that their love is still there even if its buried. then by civil war steves had time to process his feelings and realise hes in love with bucky and has been all along that he goes AGAINST THE GOVERNMENT and HIS CLOSE FRIENDS because they dont like his boyfriend. nearly beating tony to death because he tried to hurt bucky. even though now steve has had time to think about his feelings bucky is now heavily traumatised and needs time to process the past 70 years, he woudlnt have much time to think about his feelings for steve. while hes in wakanda and hes healed from hydras brainwashing he can MAYBE start thinking about steve but then the next time they see each other they are going into another war, in which bucky then dies leaving steve alone with the guilt of not being able to save everyone and love of his life.

2020s ~ once they get everyone back and steve and bucky are together again they are thrown into ANOTHER war so they still dont have time to talk. then they probably only get a few days or just hours to talk before steve goes back in time for peggy- because even after all of that steves had YEARS, i mean YEARS, without bucky and never really knowing how he feels about him steve probably healed (as much as he could) so his heart stayed focused on peggy because he always knew how she felt about him and him her. it was safe. comforting. and steves been through so much he just wanted something normal so thats why he went back for peggy, leaving bucky in the modern world alone. bucky clearly knew what steve was going to do with the stones from the small nod and smile he gave him, it seemed more like a goodbye than sams did, showing that bucky was letting steve go, giving him his concent to go.

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so what im saying is. marvel fucked my favourite gays over and they deserved more time together.

#marvel #avengers #captain america #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #steve rogers #stucky #bucky barnes #winter soldier #peggy carter #the avengers